The Fanged Family
by Lilyx1021
Summary: Historical AU/England 1400s. The Mikaelsons are entangled in a bloody bid for the English throne. Hayley has become Elijah's ward and manages to capture the wandering eye of Klaus.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first foray into the Originals fandom, hopefully you will enjoy this story. Please read and review!**

* * *

_England 1492_

"Too much?"

The scratching of eagle quill on rough parchment stopped and Elijah Mikaelson glanced up at his little sister. Smiling, he rose from his seat and circled the mahogany table, his eyes studying the rich scarlet gown encasing her lithe frame. Tiny, glimmering rubies shimmered against her bodice and a net of milky pearls held her golden curls captive. She twirled slowly, a wide mischievous grin on her face as her many petticoats rustled quietly along the rich velvet carpet. He captured her hands in his and smiled at her fondly.

"Rebekah, my dear sister…" He began slowly, dreading her reaction.

"Oh, I knew I shouldn't have even bothered to ask!" she retorted, snatching her hands away and rolling her eyes.

"We are at war. A very bloody, very costly war. It's best to show the other lords who are supping with us tonight that we are living under slightly more meager means. We are the strongest supporters of his cause and we should do well in leading by example."

"A losing cause if I may add," she retorted. She turned towards the oval floor length mirror and complimented herself on her reflection, turning slightly and allowing the candlelight to dance across her features. She hadn't realized how long she had been admiring her appearance before Elijah spoke up.

"Yes, sister, you are the greatest beauty of all England," Elijah interjected. "Now hurry and change your gown before our guests arrive."

"It is not you that I am meaning to impress," she snapped, without turning around.

Elijah sighed. He had hoped to find a better way of deterring his sister. "Marcel will not be attending tonight."

"What?" Rebekah stiffened. "What about him?"

"He is our chief armorer and fencing master. You don't think he has the time to attend these frivolities while our army runs naked?"

She whirled around to face her oldest brother, eyes narrowed to slits. "And in what way does that concern _me_?"

"There's no need to lie to me Rebekah, I am not our brother," Elijah said patiently. "You are very well aware that I do not judge you for the ones you love."

Relaxing slightly, she let out an audible sigh and sank quietly onto one of the cushioned armchairs framing the desk. She looked down at her hands and picked absentmindedly at her perfect fingernails, drawing tiny drops of blood along each nail bed. The miniscule cuts healed instantly, leaving beads of crimson blood glistening like garnets on her white skin.

"Nik would kill him if he found out," she said quietly, her icy blue eyes hardening.

"And that is why we mustn't tell him. And why you should change out of that dress. It's not as if the King of England will be dining here tonight."

"Don't be ridiculous, 'Lijah, we don't have a king. That's the reason why we're in this bloody, ridiculous war," she said, before blowing him a kiss, then gliding out of the room.

Elijah reseated himself at the desk, but before he had time to dip his quill, his other sibling waltzed in. Draping himself onto a chair, Klaus kicked his mud-caked boots onto the mahogany, nearly upturning the inkwell. Elijah righted it, not before shooting his brother a pointed glance and pushing his boots off the ornately carved wood.

"Elijah. I have a favor to ask of you."

"Niklaus, the banquet is tonight and is in your honor. I will not cancel our evening because you are being even more of a petulant child than Rebekah. Guests have already gathered in the great hall. You will attend and you will play the perfect human role as the gracious host of the evening."

"We are celebrating my _birthday_. Idiotic, really, considering that I do not possess the ability to age."

"You know as well as I that this is meant for the cause. Our forces are losing quite spectacularly in the few battles that we have engaged in. We need the support."

"Whatever you say, brother. I find it increasingly difficult to persuade you to see things my way," Klaus said. He stood up, slapping some of the dirt off his palms onto the wool of his pants. "I'll be back. The local peasants are in need of a good scare and I'd like to have a drink before I immerse myself in immensely boring people and their moronic drudgery."

"Make it fast," Elijah called, as Klaus sped out of the room.

* * *

His eyes were drilling scorching holes into her back as she danced with the numerous nobles flocking around her. She could not understand why—there were plenty of gorgeous blood bags fluttering around her brother, pestering him for his attention. Then again, she was distracted as well, which was quite an extraordinary feat considering she was being held in the arms of the most eligible bachelor in the room. (Her brothers aside.) His dark eyes gazed at her, running over the simplistic midnight blue gown she had chosen and lingering on the delicate gold 'M' that stood out against the white column of her throat. She felt unsettled and a chill washed over her arms, raising gooseflesh and a prickling sensation lingered on the back of her neck. The final, soaring notes of the waltz ended and Rebekah and her partner parted, clapping politely along with the rest of the couples that were dancing. Immediately, the musicians struck up again and he extended his hand to her.

"Care for another?" he asked, smiling sweetly at her. She could not quite comprehend why that smile unnerved her so horribly.

"No, my lord, I'm terribly sorry," she lied. "I've been on my feet all night, and these new-fangled shoes are pinching my toes quite awfully. Please excuse me, but I hope you enjoy the rest of the night."

She curtsied quickly, shot him a stunning, albeit false, grin, and then slipped away towards Klaus. He was perched on the one of the three throne-like chairs sitting behind the high table that faced the great hall's banquet tables. Her brother had managed to fend off several of the squawking blood bags, but one remained, relentlessly pawing and plucking at him. Rebekah gripped her by the elbow and fixed her narrowed eyes on the girl. She in turn, lifted her chin defiantly and wrenched her arm out of Rebekah's grip.

"Beg your pardon, but I believe that I was engaged in conversation with Lord Klaus," she sneered, placing a tiny hand on Klaus' wrist.

"Leave, wench, before I reconsider ripping your head off," Rebekah commanded, her pupils dilating. The girl scurried away and Rebekah swore she could almost see a tail tucked between her legs. She settled herself graciously in the seat next to Klaus and rewound a curl that had fallen loose back into her plait. "What was that?"

"Another one of the Gilberts. Through all that mindless chatter, I think that she mentioned her name was Elena."

"A Gilbert?" Rebekah asked, disgusted. "I swear…they procreate like rabbits."

"As I'm sure you'd like to."

"Don't start, brother," Rebekah sighed. But he was right. Though, she would rather be repeatedly staked by those ridiculous daggers that her brother kept hidden than admit it to him. Centuries of running with her siblings had hardened her. Bloodlust ran rampant through her and Klaus; men, women, even children were shown no mercy as they were ripped to shreds. The hunger was always in control, and together she and her hybrid brother ransacked countless villages, while Elijah frowned disapprovingly, failed to change their ways, and finally turned the other cheek. But centuries of running, feasting, and destroying had left her empty and in need of something to fill the throbbing hole in her soul.

As much as Rebekah tried to keep it hidden, she could feel it. Bubbling up to the surface, written across her face every time the bloodied remains of a pageboy or serving girl were found in the acres of shadowy woodland surrounding her family's fortress. She would see to their last rites and was always the last to pay her respects and see the dying embers of their funeral pyres. And she wondered what those children could have grown up to become. Nine, ten years of age and their lives had been cut short so quickly, so effortlessly. And at night, lying on satin sheets in a silken nightgown, with all the riches of the world surrounding her, she pondered on why the ache in her chest grew larger every day.

"So, did you enjoy the company of this one?" Klaus asked, his voice steely, signature smirk playing across his lips.

"Not at all," Rebekah replied flippantly. "Didn't even catch his name."

"He's the young Salvatore. Stefan, they call him. Son of George Salvatore, the man leading our cause. Our future king, if we ever win this damn war. You have finally chosen a man worthy of your stature, dear sister," Klaus replied sarcastically. Rebekah knew he meant none of it.

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly, he gives me a bad feeling, Nik. I do not like the way he looked at me. As if he knew who we were. As if he knew exactly how to hurt us."

"Nonsense sister," Klaus said, as he linked his elbow with hers. "Nothing can hurt us. And I will personally decapitate anyone who tries. Their heads will hang from our rafters. Their entrails will be fed upon by rats and ravens."

He pecked her forehead and Rebekah smiled, briefly content. It was in these moments that she was glad that her brother was ruthless, cruel even.

"Niklaus, Rebekah," Elijah appeared, looking slightly crestfallen, his eyes scanning his younger siblings' faces. "You both are being antisocial."

"Nonsense, Elijah, I've had the breathtaking company of a young Gilbert, and our dear sister here has quite literally danced the night away." Klaus motioned towards the giant panes of glass spanning the stonewalls that were allowing miniature rays of sunlight to peek through.

"Enough, come with me." He motioned towards the hidden door lurking behind the high table. The Mikaelson siblings rose as one and slipped away, their getaway seen by none except Stefan Salvatore. The darkness swallowed them whole, until the door creaked shut, locking them inside its inky black. Once inside the dank passageway that led straight to the study, Rebekah whirled on Elijah and poked him in the chest.

"Elijah, you know that I never question you," she said quietly, her eyes wide. "But we have not used this passageway since the castle was stormed by the Lockwood's troops. Tell me that nothing is wrong."

"Nonsense, nothing is happening. Commander Salvatore has only asked for our presence in a more…private meeting place," Elijah reassured her.

Elijah pushed open the grimy, rusty door that signaled the end of the passageway and the heat roaring from the study's fireplace washed over them as if they had sank into a hot bath. George Salvatore himself was seated at Elijah's desk, his long fingers laced together. His closely trimmed, graying beard accentuated hollowing cheeks and icy blue eyes followed the Mikaelson's every move as they entered the room. A cloaked, female figure sat in the corner, shrouded by the flickering shadows of the cavernous hearth. A dark hood that barely brushed the bottom of her chin shielded her face from the curious gazes of the Mikaelson siblings.

"First of all," George began, leaning forward and beaming a smile that did not reach his eyes, "I would like to thank you all for hosting this lovely soiree. Our coffers have been refilled and the guests have danced their shoes to tattered shreds."

Elijah smiled and inclined his head.

"Secondly, I have brought you all here to discuss this war that we are waging." George plucked a scroll from under the desk and unrolled it, revealing a weathered map. Several, large, red X's marred the paper, each with a paragraph of minute, cramped writing scrawled underneath. There was one gold X on the page, with only a single line of script written.

"As you can clearly see," George gestured. "Our armies are clearly no match against the Lockwood's. And while I do appreciate all of you utilizing your little mind control powers and increasing our numbers," He waggled his fingers in the air, "I must inform you that it is not enough. I need more." Leaning back, he took a weighted breath before beginning again and managing to outrage even Elijah. "Have ten thousand men delivered to me in the next fortnight."

"What?" Elijah demanded, while Klaus and Rebekah shot each other pointed looks. "We have already compelled thousands from the peasantry and even dozens from the ranks of your nobility. Your demands are outrageous."

"Do you know what is in fact, outrageous?" George said quietly, his eyes tightening. "Harboring vampires and granting you all safety within my borders when every other country in Europe has declared war on your sickening kind. That was the deal. You give me men. And I allow you shelter." His fists slammed onto the table, as he stood up, jabbing a finger at Elijah.

"Did we not agree upon that?" He suddenly roared, spittle flying from his bared yellow teeth.

The room was deadly silent. Only the crackling from the fireplace and the soft whispered breaths of the woman in the corner could be heard. Yet George seemed unaware that he had managed to anger three of the most powerful beings in existence.

"You fool."

"Address me properly, Klaus, you ungrateful son of a bitch," George snarled.

Klaus sneered and leaned forward, his gleaming eyes glowing amber and a predatory stare fixated upon George. "Have you ever killed someone my lord?" A stiff nod. "Have you ever slashed open throats, ripped rib cages apart, and held a still-beating heart in your hands?" A shake of the head. "Because if you continue speaking to my brother in such a discourteous manner, I shall have to resort to such methods."

George slowly, silently resumed his seat, white knuckles gripping the arms of the winged chair so tightly that it seemed as though he could have crushed the wood. Elijah nodded his thanks to Klaus; mentally noting that compulsion would be a handy tool and that George was never to get his hands on vervain.

"Now that you've finished rudely berating my brothers," Rebekah said, facing the cowed Salvatore. "We have a problem on our hands. In the last week alone, I compelled several hundred men and gave them the fervor of an entire gathering of religious fanatics. These men would have fought to their very last breath, there should have been at least more than one victory."

"That is exactly the problem. _I_ have men. And do you know what the Lockwoods possess?" He glared at them, a glint of jealousy winking in his eyes.

"Vampires."

The Mikaelsons stiffened. "No," Elijah began, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's impossible. The Lockwoods are a werewolf clan; they do not, they _cannot_ associate with vampires. The feud between vampire and weres runs deeper than this war."

"Well, you're wrong. I have received numerous reports from scouts informing me that these battles were entirely one sided. Bodies were torn apart, throats slashed open. Blood ran ankle-deep on the battlefield. And above all that the Lockwoods flew their banners, while ours burned."

"It must be a vampire nesting. A large one," Elijah said, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger. "Or an older vampire. Creating countless numbers of young ones."

"Katherine. It's Katherine. Katherine Pierce."

The woman in the corner had finally spoken. She reached one hand up to pull back the hood, revealing glossy brown ringlets and a pair of dancing hazel-green eyes. Her smile was sure, steady, and, as Elijah and Klaus had both immediately decided, quite fetching.

"How," Rebekah said, mouth puckered. "In the hell do you know that name?"

"Allow me to introduce," George said, gesturing slightly in the woman's direction. "Lady Haylia of House Marshall. She is the lady in waiting to the Lady Lockwood."

"Was. I was her lady in waiting." Nevertheless, she inclined her head; her long curls brushing rosy cheeks. Most women would have curtsied timidly in the presence of the Mikaelsons, but she had not, and Klaus appreciated the girl's daring.

"A Marshall? They're bound to the Lockwoods," Rebekah said, eyes narrowed. She rounded on the younger girl. "You're a _traitor_."

Haylia's eyes darkened. "I was never a traitor," she hissed. "I have never sworn my allegiance to the Lockwood family. They mean nothing to me."

Rebekah opened her mouth, about to retort, before Elijah reached and squeezed her hand. "Shush, Rebekah. Let the girl speak."

Smoothing her skirt, Haylia continued on. "All of my life, I was groomed to become a lady in waiting to the family. And when I was finally chosen, it was a great honor and an opportunity." She nodded towards George. "My first sighting of the vampire Katherine was the day I saw her turn the stable boys. She was a beautiful woman and she plied them with wine, enough to get them drunk and willing to taste her blood. And then she broke their necks and threw each one into a horse stall. The very next morning, I heard their screams as the sun scorched their skin. That night, I saw them ride into battle, but they never returned."

"Then why are you here?" demanded Rebekah. "You couldn't send this information to us by letter?

"Katherine found me prying in the old horse stables where they were keeping the newer vampires that she had created after the old ones died. She chased me. I ran."

"You managed to outrun Katherine? A vampire that has been eluding me for centuries?" Klaus asked, an eyebrow quirked.

She leveled him with a hypnotic stare. "I run fast."

And they could smell it on her, she knew it. The fragrant musk that clung to every werewolf was evident on her skin. She could even detect a tiny whiff emanating from the hybrid.

"She will need sanction within your walls and protection from the vampire Katherine. The official story is that Elijah has taken on a new ward." George stood and walked towards the door, his cloak trailing behind him. "And try to keep her alive. We know what happened to the last one." He gave Klaus a pointed glance.

Klaus shrugged. "She did ask for it. I just got a bit…carried away."

"Enough," Elijah said. He extended a hand towards Haylia and she clasped it, rising from her seat and shaking out her skirts. She was quite tall and willowy, the corseting of her gown accentuating her tiny waist. "Seeing as you are now my ward, Lady Haylia, allow me to introduce my siblings," He gestured to Rebekah and Klaus. "Rebekah and Klaus Mikaelson."

She dipped her head graciously. "I am honored and grateful to be under your protection."

Elijah smiled warmly and pressed his lips delicately against her hand. "Welcome to your new home, my Lady Haylia."

"Actually," she said, smiling softly. "It's Hayley. My name is Hayley."

* * *

**Side note: I realize that Stefan and Damon's father's name is Giuseppe in the series, but I realized that his name is not very English sounding, so I changed it to George. Hopefully that wasn't too confusing I've also made Katherine a little bit older than she is in the series... just by a couple hundred years.. no biggie.. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Please read and review! **


	2. Chapter 2

Elijah pushed open the door with his boot, while one hand held a brass candelabra and the other Hayley's elbow. She stepped tentatively over the threshold, her eyes popping in amazement at the grandeur before her. The room was quite large and the cold stonewalls had been paneled with a rich, dark wood. A mammoth four-poster bed with a flight of steps leading up to it and velvet curtains to keep out the biting cold dominated the room. Someone had clearly thought of her comfort as a log fire was burning cheerily in the fireplace, candles were winking at her from the top of the mahogany dressing table and the two wardrobes, and as she grazed her hand across the rich crimson quilt, the heat from a warming pan between the sheets met her fingers.

She could see Elijah shifting uncomfortably. While she had already made her rounds throughout the room, he had remained by the door.

He cleared his throat. "Hopefully it is to my lady's expectations?"

She gave him a reassuring smile. "It's beyond my expectations. I could never thank you enough."

Clearly relieved, he marched towards the two wardrobes and opened the door of the left one. Hayley looked at him questioningly and he motioned for her to come closer. Peering inside, she did not see racks that were meant to hang her finer gowns or shelves for her riding boots, but rather, a large hole in the floor of the wardrobe. Even with her heightened vision, she could only see several feet down the tunnel before it turned to nothing but darkness. She glanced at Elijah suspiciously.

"It leads straight into the carriage house," he explained. "From there, head north into the forest. No one dares enter the night of a full moon due to superstitions that the Salvatores have introduced to keep everyone away."

"The next full moon will be in—"

"Six days," Elijah said. "I suggest you start exploring." He strode to her door and rested one hand on the knob. "It has been quite a taxing day for you. Sleep well, Lady Hayley."

"Just Hayley," she corrected, smiling. "And I will, Lord Mikaelson. Knowing that I am under your care, I'll sleep soundly tonight."

"It is our pleasure," he said politely. Picking up the candelabra, he was about to shut the door before suddenly turning back towards her.

"And it's just Elijah." Grinning, he closed the door quietly behind him.

* * *

Steam rose from the scalding perfumed water in the wooden tub, scenting the entire room with honeysuckle and jasmine. Hayley leaned back against the side of the tub, her eyes closed in bliss. It was only her third night in the Mikaelson household and she was already quite accustomed to their lavish lifestyle. Yesterday she had found a dozen winter gowns (perfectly tailored to her size), lying on her bed in shimmering blues, purples, and silvers. After demanding Elijah take them back, she was rebuffed as he informed her (with a twinkle in his eye) that her new stature in the Mikaelson household decreed that her lady in waiting gowns were no longer acceptable.

Even Rebekah herself had been unexpectedly kind towards Hayley, actually calling her by her name, instead of 'wolf girl' and lending her a prized silver mare to ride on in order to accompany them on public hunting trips with the Gilberts and Salvatores. She had also invited Hayley to the sewing circle with the other women of nobility, to which Hayley had tried to respectfully decline ("What? Rebekah, you know I can't sew a stitch…"), but in the end, had grudgingly accepted ("I swear Hayley, if you do not attend and if I have to hear another word of their mindless drabble, I'm going to rip out their tongues."). And while the ladies chirped cheerfully amongst one another about the lovely snow that had fallen the previous night or the new fangled corset that arrived from France, Rebekah and Hayley whispered war tactics into each other's ears and giggled over how truly atrocious her crocheting was.

The only Mikaelson that had not warmed up to her was none other than the infamous Klaus. He never spoke a word to her, never acknowledged her presence, never even glanced in her direction when she entered a room. She had tried to make polite conversation with him when they were seated next to each other during meals, but soon gave up after his brusque and snappish replies destroyed any further exchange that could have happened between them.

She finally had had enough after a particularly exhausting and uncomfortable supper with him and the members of House Bennett. (Elijah and Rebekah had both been gone by the time she had woken up, presumably to feed.)

She followed Klaus after he had excused himself, tailing him closely as he left the castle, striding into the frozen, manicured gardens, and then entering the overgrown maze. Although she was wearing one of the sapphire wool gowns that Elijah had gifted her, the freezing gusts slashed through the fabric like daggers. She followed at a distance, ducking behind a particularly thorny hedge when he happened to turn around. He finally stopped at a marble bench a ways in and seated himself gracefully.

"Care to join me, little wolf?" He called out mockingly. She could almost feel the smirk on his lips. She wanted to slap herself—he was an Original, he could hear her heartbeat from a mile away.

Stepping into view, she wrapped her hands tightly around her arms, shivering against the snapping wind. Her hair swirled around her shoulders as the gust picked up speed, howling in her ears.

"And why would you want me to?"

"Well, you followed me, love. Must be a reason for that." He smiled again and dusted off the other side of the bench ceremoniously for her. She sat down (a good distance away), feeling the intense chill of the marble shoot straight up her backside, before turning towards him.

"I just wanted to ask you something," said Hayley, her teeth chattering and her hands desperately chafing her arms.

"Ask away."

"Why is it that you hate me?" The words tumbled out before she had a chance to close her lips around them.

Yet given the chance, she would not have taken them back. She wondered where she had gotten the nerve to sit in this frozen hell and demand answers from him. It seemed that 'reckless' would soon become her defining characteristic. She wasn't sure if she was flirting with death or permanent disfiguration. He could tug her head off with a twist of his fingers and have it adorning a fountain by the time Elijah and Rebekah returned.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Hate you?"

The girl had surprised him. Such an event had not manifested itself in several centuries and it piqued his curiosity. She had courage; there was absolutely no doubting that. Sitting with her back ramrod straight and eyes sparkling with defiance, Klaus found himself almost amused.

"You can't stand to be around me," she muttered crossly. "You leave when I enter; you refuse to acknowledge my existence. And I just don't understand it. What is it about me that has made you so incredibly resistant to my integration in this household?" She stopped for breath, warm puffs of air escaping past her lips and swirling around paling cheeks.

Klaus was quiet.

"Hayley…" She shivered at that, whether it was from the cold or her name falling from his lips, she wasn't sure. "I do not hate you. However, I am wary of your motives." She opened her mouth in protest, but he held up a hand. "Let me finish. My family is my all. I would do anything for them. And to hear that you betrayed yours in a heartbeat to spy for a man you _barely_ knew. Then what is stopping you from deluding my family and running back to the Lockwoods with your pretty little head full of our secrets?"

"And what of Elijah and Rebekah?" Hayley retorted. "Do you think they are fools for welcoming me into their home?" She was becoming increasingly more aggravated, both with herself and him. He knew nothing about her, knew nothing about the hell that she had fought through and the torment she had endured to find this sanctuary within the Mikaelson's walls.

"Rebekah has always wanted a sister. After centuries of only brothers to keep her company and the knowledge that her mother despised her, her want for female companionship only grew with each passing year. As for Elijah, that is simply his way. His honor, devotion, and kindness are his most important qualities."

"And what could yours possibly be?" she asked sarcastically.

"You will have to make that discovery on your own," he said, rising and offering her his arm. "I am protective of my family and although they seem to fancy you, I have yet to make my own decision."

Feeling affronted, she ignored him and stood on her own, shoving her freezing hands into her armpits and began walking back, sincerely regretting this conversation. He walked several paces ahead of her and she was glad of that. She did not need to feel his judgment burning onto her back, though any form of heat would have been welcome. After several minutes of slow trudging through the maze, Hayley could feel her throat constricting, every breath was becoming more labored and it was considerably harder to force air into her burning lungs. Her toes had turned to ice in her lambskin boots and her jaw was chattering so intensely, she was sure that a tooth must have rattled itself loose. Clenching her fingers, she realized that she could not feel them anymore. Her nails bit severely into her palms, but the sensation was lost. A trail of red dripped from the crescent moons her fingers had carved.

In front of her, Klaus stilled, and then rounded on her, glowing amber eyes fixated on her bleeding hands. Hayley stopped stumbling forward and swayed back and forth, one hand grabbing a branch for support. Her feet were like frozen boulders and she could not find the strength to move them forward. Suddenly he was in front of her, a surprisingly gentle hand cupped under her chin and lifting her head up to meet his piercing gaze. He slid in and out of Hayley's blurring vision and she heard a quiet, muttered, "Dammit."

She was lifted off of her feet and the air in her lungs 'whooshed' out as she was hoisted none too gently onto his shoulder. And then it felt like she was flying. The castle doors and the marble staircase zoomed by her and she heard a barked order and another frantic voice say, "Right away my lord!" The soaring abruptly stopped and her back was suddenly touching the crimson coverlet of her own bed. The roaring fire in the hearth was allowing a sharp, prickling to return to her fingers and she flexed them gingerly. A heavy quilt had been tossed over her and she was glad of its fluffy bulk encasing her violently shivering body. Sensation was creeping back into her skin and she could feel him there, sitting at the foot of the bed, watching her closely. Several minutes ticked by and her shuddering convulsions became less and less brutal.

"Why did you help me?" she finally croaked, her eyes fluttering open.

He was eyeing her hands quite strangely. But that look immediately disappeared as his eyes flicked back up to her face. "Because the last few women that Elijah took under his wing met their untimely ends at my hands. And I don't believe my sanctimonious older brother would appreciate it very much if I let another one of his charges perish under my care by letting you freeze to death."

He spoke matter-of-factly, but Hayley could detect something darker lingering deeper behind his casual attitude. He seemed oddly in control of his temper, but she could see a muscle twitching at the corner of his jaw.

"What's the real reason?" she asked.

He pursed his lips. "You're an intuitive one. The others were all idiotic little puppy dogs. Constantly yipping in my ears and waggling their tongues." He adjusted his waistcoat and stood, towering over her. "But that is a conversation for later. Perhaps after your ladies of the bedchamber have warmed you up properly." He gestured towards her chambermaids, who seemed to have magically appeared, each holding a fluffy towel and silken robe.

"Until your next near death experience, my lady." He bowed mockingly, smirked, and then strode quickly out of the room, shutting the door smartly behind him.

Glowering, Hayley resisted the incredibly fulfilling urge to take the ceramic pitcher sitting on her side table and throw it at his retreating back.

* * *

**AN: Well, hello there readers, thank you so much for joining me :) I'd like to thank everyone for their lovely reviews, it was great to hear some feedback and also such lovely comments! I didn't expect much, so thank you guys so much! I also got a couple of questions, so I'll answer them here:**

**1. Is this going to be a Haylijah or a Klayley fic?**

**-Practically everyone who reviewed asked this question and I can honestly say that I am not completely sure. Both couples have their merits, so I'll leave it up to the reviewers to tell me who they want to see end up together. (majority rules!)**

**2. Is Hayley going to be pregnant?**

**-Yes, but I won't say by who ;) (mostly because I haven't made up my mind yet ...) This is also something that I'm struggling with as well, so please please throw in a suggestion and let me know who you want the baby daddy to be! **

**3. Any Marcel? **

**-Definitely! Looking forward to adding him soon. Maybe in the next chapter or so? *crosses fingers***

**4. Any Haybekah?**

**-Unfortunately, no. I personally don't see them in a romantic relationship, but definitely a brotp if that's what you're referring to! **

**If you have anymore questions to ask me, don't be shy! I'd be happy to disclose whatever I can. Anyways, please read, subscribe, favorite and review! Feed the muse! I hope you all have a lovely week! xx**


	3. Chapter 3

The merry clash of steel ringing against steel echoed in the courtyard accompanied by two hooting voices. Klaus and Marcel circled each other; eyes alight, extended rapiers at the ready. Their feet crunched against freshly fallen snow as they feinted left and right, each slashing at air instead of flesh. Blasts of wind created from the impact of their blows blew their snowflake-covered hair into total disarray. The courtyard's walls echoed with bursts of frenzied laughter occasionally exploding from their panting mouths. They hooted at each other, shouting obscenities and taunts.

Finally, their sparring soon reached its inevitable end as Klaus knocked Marcel's sword arm away, tapping his blade against his protégé's exposed neck.

"A good victory," Marcel panted, when Klaus had stepped back, bracing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Good?" Klaus gloated, clapping Marcel on the back. "I bested you. Clearly. The pupil has yet to beat the master. Perhaps I should be the fencing master and you the lord."

"Never, I'd have to wear that frilly lace thing—," he gestured at Klaus' neck, while still gasping. "I'm still human, Klaus. You know I could never compete with you in this body."

"You think that _you_ could defeat _me_?" Klaus asked incredulously, eyebrows raised and a wide grin on his face. "Even if you were a vampire, my dear Marcel, you would have no chance."

"Let's test that idea. Turn me. Then we'll know for sure."

"Tempting, but no. You are still not quite ready yet."

"Then when? It's been a decade, Klaus. I'm tired of suffering from paper cuts in this degenerating body, while you run around pulling stakes out of your heart."

Klaus placed his hand on Marcel's shoulder, smiling reassuringly. "All in good time, my friend."

Marcel groaned, knocked his hand away, and marched over to the pageboy holding a pitcher of wine, pouring himself a rather large amount of liquid courage. "So how goes the war effort?" he asked casually, after downing the goblet. He propped himself against a marble pillar and began sharpening his blade with a whetstone.

Klaus resisted the urge to grind his teeth and curse the Salvatores. "Difficult. Combating a vampire army with only mortal pawns to play with is proving to be a massive headache for my poor brother."

"Vampires?" The smooth hiss of steel against stone ceased. "But Elijah informed me the Lockwoods are wolves. Don't they have some long-standing vendetta running between their two species?"

"Yes, but evidently the lust for power can quench all feuds. They've stooped quite low this time, our lovely lady Katerina is helping them replenish their armies."

"She's been running from you for five centuries, and somehow the both of you end up in the same country?" Marcel asked, exchanging the newly sharpened sword for Klaus'. He eyed his benefactor knowingly. "She's not running from you anymore. Your roles have changed…She's attacking _you_."

"Katerina would be a _fool_ to think that she is causing me any sort of pain," he sneered. "This war only affects me because it affects her former lover."

"Former lover?"

Klaus rolled his eyes. "God's sake, Marcel. For all the time you spend with my sister teaching her how to properly fence, you would think that your head would have exploded from all the gossip she'd be pouring into it."

"It's not as though Rebekah and I can talk, Klaus. It's a very _physical_ activity. Not much time for mindless chatter." There was an odd look in Marcel's eyes, but Klaus elected to ignore it.

"Very well. Former lover as in my idiotic brother-that-still-believes-in-the-magic-of-true-l ove—Elijah. He and Katerina had a minor dalliance while she was human but I soon put an end to that the moment she slipped that noose around her neck and pushed herself off that chair."

"So, how do you propose to win a war against vampires created by her?"

"Fairly simple, really. Elijah's already tested this theory and we've had some moderate success. Their blades and arrows that you supplied have already been coated with vervain, as well as their armor."

"Spilling secrets, brother?" Rebekah's voice rang out as she marched over to the two of them, sword in hand. A leather cord was wrapped around her head to keep her blonde tresses away from her face and she was wearing—

"Trousers, Rebekah?" Klaus asked disbelievingly. "This is a surprisingly new low for you."

"I am _fencing_, you dim-witted bastard," she snapped, prodding his chest lightly with the blade that she had snagged from the armory. "I absolutely do not intend on dueling in the snow in a gown that weighs more than I do."

Klaus flicked the steel off of his chest and kissed his sister's cheek delicately, before whispering, "They are incredibly unbecoming," and sauntering away. To which she snarled, stooped down, and launched a massive wad of snow at his head. He dodged it, flitting up to the castle doors, laughing uproariously. He turned around just in time to see the much more dangerous object that Rebekah had thrown at him, catching it right before it speared his pupil. He flung the sword back at her and she snatched it out of the air, landing delicately on her feet like a golden-maned panther. Marcel rushed her just as she came down, slicing at her arm. She retaliated with the speed of a viper and blade met blade in a clash of sparks.

Laughter ricocheted off the frozen walls just as it did when Marcel had a considerably different sparring partner. Except this time it was much more unique. Marcel's laugh was untroubled, brasher, belying the confidence with which he swung his sword. And combined with Rebekah's tinkling giggle, together they formed a chorus of pure, unadulterated joy.

Every window in the castle facing the courtyard was filled with curious eyes as serving girls, ladies in waiting, and chambermaids crammed themselves together to watch their mistress and the fencing master spar. And they marveled at the beauty and elegant grace of their deadly dance and sighed about how unfortunate and incredibly tragic it was that the pair would never be allowed to marry.

* * *

"Elijah?"

He glanced up at the sound of her voice, smiling when Hayley waltzed into view. Underneath the hood of her cape, her hair tumbled down her back in untamed and unruly curls. However, he was glad to see that she was finally dressed properly for the weather in a woolen gown, fur-lined cloak, and supple leather gloves. She stood at the entryway of his solar, resting one hand lightly on the doorframe.

"Yes, my dear?"

"I'm _bored_, Elijah. And I've been here for long enough. When am I going to receive the official tour of our home?"

"Patience, Hayley," he chided. "And it is not my tour to give. When we first made this castle our home, it took months for us to uncover every nook and cranny. Every inhabitant is meant to discover the riches of their new home on their own."

She pouted adorably, her bottom lip plumping slightly. "You couldn't give me just the tiniest advantage? This place is ancient; it would take me years to explore everything. And I don't have vampire speed on my side."

He sighed, gesturing to the mounds of scrolls strewn on the table. "Hayley—"

"Please?" she charmed him. "I have been trapped behind these walls for _days_. You won't even let me go outside! I have had enough of these women and the judgmental looks they throw at me. I need some air, some sunlight. Please Elijah?"

"To my knowledge, the last time that you were outside, you nearly killed yourself."

Her brow winkled, but only for a moment. She stepped closer, her hands grazing the desk Elijah was sitting at, before coming to rest on his hand. "With you as my escort, how could anyone, even the weather, hurt me?"

"Very well," Elijah said, rising and taking her hand, tucked it securely under his elbow. She was entirely too convincing. He comforted himself on the fact that it would have been very inhospitable and ungracious of him to refuse her. And he felt no desire to reply to the irate letter that George Salvatore had sent him demanding for more troops.

The gardens were a preserved winter wonderland. Icicles dangled from every available surface and the rays from the midday sun caused the snow to sparkle with the intensity of a thousand diamonds. Sheets of water had frozen around the spouts of the numerous fountains and Elijah remarked that on a warmer day, if one tilted their head at the perfect angle, the stream of water coming out of the angel's mouth would appear as though it was spraying from an entirely different hole. Hayley laughed at that, a genuinely delighted laugh, and Elijah basked in the glow of it.

They soon reached the entrance of the maze and Hayley stilled, her arm tightening in the warm crevice of Elijah's elbow. He gave her an odd look, before soothingly guiding her inside. She had not really noticed very much about the maze her first time inside, but now, even in broad daylight, it disturbed her. Soaring briar bushes formed a dark canopy over their heads allowing minimal amounts of sunlight to creep through.

"This place is troubling, I don't think I'll be spending much time in here."

Elijah placed his hand over hers and squeezed soothingly. "We'll take the fastest route out."

"What is the purpose of having a maze anyways? The maintenance must be exhausting."

"True, but I don't think our groundskeeper tends to it very much. It was already here when Commander Salvatore gifted the castle to us half a century ago. He was not quite the commander then. Barely reached my shoulder. Niklaus and I used to hide little presents inside, and then send Rebekah in to find them."

"Used to?" she asked, head tilted.

"We've been… quite busy. And the last time that Niklaus did it, Rebekah found her lover's head sitting on a marble bench. The rest of his body was strewn throughout the maze."

Elijah stole a glance at Hayley, but she seemed unperturbed. A bit disgusted, but she was not covering her ears or screaming in horror. "You are not alarmed?"

She shook her head. "No. I've heard quite a few tales from the Lockwoods about Klaus. Although I was unaware that his cruelty could be directed at Rebekah."

"Indeed, he's got quite the habit of killing her lovers the moment she says those three little words."

"I love you?"

Elijah released her arm as they neared one of the many exits in the maze. "The obvious choice and very close, but no. It's I love _him_." His face sobered and he turned to Hayley, smiling sadly. "My brother is protective, territorial even. He saw that these men would have the ability to take our baby sister away from him. And any one of them could have the potential to break her heart. That terrified him beyond belief. So he—being so stubbornly set in his ways—always acted first and made sure that Rebekah was never hurt by any other man but him." He grasped Hayley by the shoulders, staring intensely into her wide eyes. "Now that you are my ward Hayley, you have also become part of my family. And by extension, Niklaus has as well. You may not see it yet, but there will come a day when you are in Rebekah's position."

He lowered his lips to her ear.

"Choose wisely."

* * *

**AN: A bit too dramatic? ;) First off, I'd like to start by saying a HUGE THANK YOU! I got so much love in the reviews and yes, I have been counting the haylijah vs. klayley votes. I also got a couple of PMs about this, so I'm throwing them into the mix as well. As of now, the Klayley shippers are (slightly) in the lead, but I haven't yet made up my mind, so you can keep tossing in the ship of your choice! Maybe you'll tip the scales in your favor? Now, onto the questions! **

**1. Will Hayley be turning into a wolf?**

**-Yep! Fairly soon, if I may add..and i wonder who will be there to witness it? hmmmmmm...**

**2. Will the losing couple be made into a brotp?**

**-don't say losing.. that makes me sad. :( Whatever couple you ship in your mind is the one that is winning! But to answer the question, yes! they'll be great friends. I'm sure of it. **

**3. Since your story of Hayley's past is different than that of the show, will we be finding that out anytime soon?**

**-Eventually, but I'm not going to add specifics because I don't quite know who she's going to spill all her dirty secrets to. I have the exact scene in my head and I know exactly how Elijah will react and same with Klaus. I'm just not sure which one all of you lovely readers will like better. Do you guys want to vote on that too? **

**4. You promised us Marcel! Is he going to show up soon?**

**-He did! I have some scenes that I've set aside for Marcel, so stay tuned! **

**Well, there you have it! Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter and thank you so so much for reading! Please review, follow, and favorite! **

**P.S. what did you think of tonight's episode? anyone else really happy that queen witch bitch agnes got what was coming to her? *raises hand***

**Happy Wednesday! xx **


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was dipping beyond the horizon, spilling waves of lustrous yellow and orange into Hayley's bedroom. She sat on the cushioned window seat draped in a dark cloak, elbows propped on her knees, gazing out at the vast open forest below her. Closing her eyes against the daunting view and wrapping the cloak tighter around her, she basked in the temporarily warm glow emanating from the glass.

She could smell Elijah's scent, musky and pleasant, wafting off the fuzzy material. She sighed contentedly. He was her protector, her benefactor, her _friend_. She didn't have too many of those since her world had been dominated by suspicion and betrayal before she was even born. But she took comfort in the fact that one of the most powerful beings in existence was one of them, pressing her nose delicately into the fabric and inhaling his soothing scent.

But she could not doze off for long. Tonight was _the_ night. The one that she had been dreading ever since she was a young, frightened, little girl. She could already hear her own bones snapping, the echo of her screams, the thundering snarls that she could not yet control. During her time with the Lockwoods, she had a pack to run with at every full moon, but now—she was completely and utterly alone.

The sun had now entirely disappeared behind the line of trees and Hayley rose from her curled up position, rolling and stretching out her cramped shoulders. She tugged on a pair of long, thick woolen stockings and slid her feet into her heaviest riding boots. Yanking open the wardrobe door, she gazed down into the blackness, her stomach in tight knots.

Suddenly, she wasn't so sure about this. Werewolves were able to spot anything on the blackest of nights, when murky clouds guarded any light shed by the moon or the stars. Yet, she could not see a whit down the damn hole in the floor.

But, she reassured herself, this was Elijah's plan. And although the span of her entire life had rarely ever involved the word trust, she felt it was entirely applicable to him. She had lost count of all the times that Elijah had referred to her as part of his family or shot her a comforting smile across a crowded dinner table. He—no doubt—would have her best interests at heart. Gathering her courage, she clambered inside, pulling the door shut behind her with an ominous creak. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she stepped forward gingerly and fell into the pitch-black darkness.

Down, down, down, down. She did not know how long the blasted tunnel was, but she bumped roughly against sharp turns and twists, cursing under her breath. Jagged stonewalls chafed her already-scarred elbows bloody. And just as she was absolutely certain that her supper was going to exit her body from the wrong end, she was dumped out quite unceremoniously, knocking the clenched breath from her lungs.

She landed rather ungracefully onto a giant bale of hay, causing a huge dust cloud to balloon up and swallow her. Sliding down from her prickly roost, she coughed vigorously, trying to expel all the grime from her burning throat.

"Who's there?"

Hayley froze in place as the voice echoed throughout the carriage house. It was distinctly male sounding and judging by his tone, he was wary of her presence. She scanned the entire facility rapidly, desperately searching for a place to hide. She couldn't dive back into the hay bale without being noticed and the multiple carriages' unoiled hinges screeched in protest when she tried to clamber inside. Footsteps were fast approaching; she could hear him rustling around, searching for her.

Brushing stray straws from her skirt, she straightened her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height. A haughty expression was plastered on her face and it remained in place—shocked as she was—when her eyes saw Marcel rounding the corner, broadsword in hand.

"Lady Haylia?" he said, sounding surprised, lowering his weapon. He smiled in relief. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" she snapped at him, assuming a false sense of bravado. She was glad the cloak's length shielded her quivering legs from his inquisitive gaze. Her lips pursed, and she regarded him suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be at the war campaign with Commander Salvatore?"

"I had some matters Elijah requested me to see to," he said, smiling evenly. "He wanted me to map out the architecture of this castle. Uncover every little hidey-hole. Apparently, _someone's_ getting lost."

"Oh. I see. Well, have a lovely evening," she said, feigning apathy and attempting to march past him. He snagged her elbow and she stopped, heart pounding furiously in her chest. Her eyes darted towards the darkening silhouettes of the trees as the radiance of the red-orange sky began fading to a rich dark violet. She was running out of time.

"I answered your question. Now you answer mine." His voice was gentle, smooth like liquid velvet, with a hint of malice.

"I'm taking a walk. Am I not allowed an evening stroll without being interrogated?" She tried to leave again, but his grip on her arm tightened.

"You know the forest isn't safe at this time of the month, don't you? I'm sure our noble Lord Elijah would have seen to your safety."

"What can I say? I'm a bit of a risk taker," she snarled. And with that, she wrenched herself free, marching away as quickly as her knocking knees would allow. Marcel's gaze followed her until the evergreens swallowed her into their shadowy depths.

Once she was safely engulfed in trees, Hayley scanned the area for an appropriate hiding spot and sprinted towards the roots of a particularly large pine tree. She brushed away the mounds of pine needles and hollowed out a small cavity under a protruding root. She tugged off her cloak and stockings and folded them, stowing each item carefully inside. Once barefoot and clothed only in a simple cotton shift, Hayley waited, eyes tightly shut in anticipation.

"I see that you're not one for propriety nor decency."

Her eyes snapped open and she whirled around to see Klaus perched quietly on a lofty tree branch several feet away from her. Blood was trickling from the corner of his smiling lips and he swiped at it with his tongue, licking the remnants into his mouth. He pushed off, landing lightly on the balls of his feet.

"What are you doing here?" she sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes. "I thought I wasn't going to see you until my 'next near death experience'. I'm going to be turning in a matter of minutes. Perhaps it is _you_ who wants the near death experience."

He smirked. "I'm indestructible, remember? And a hybrid. Werewolf venom's absolutely horrifying consequences on the regular vampire has no effect whatsoever on me." Circling her, he stroked his chin musingly. "This look suits you quite well. Your appearance is remarkably similar to what my dinner looked like. I'm enjoying it immensely…"

"What man wouldn't?" Hayley said brazenly. "I'm always completely nude at least once a month." Regardless of her bravado, she crossed her arms over the slightly translucent fabric of her garb, her cheeks coloring slightly.

Klaus cocked an eyebrow. "At least?"

Before she could think up a brash retort, in the far distance, the crack of a twig snapping could be heard. Their heads whipped towards the direction of the sound, two pairs of blue and green eyes narrowing. She saw the immediate change in Klaus' stare, from playful to predatory. Immediately knowing what was to come, she stepped forward, extending a steady hand out to him.

"No, please don't—" she started, but he was already gone, the leaves whispering after him. Swearing under her breath, she tore after him, bare feet scraping dents into the muddy forest floor. Her legs pounded after him desperately, her lungs furiously pumped the frigid forest air in and out, and rivers of sweat glided down her back in streaks. She skidded to a stop when she finally reached Klaus, who already had his hand in a windpipe-crushing grip around a choking boy's neck. Both of their faces were purpling, one in rage, the other in desperation.

"What are you doing in the forest?" he demanded. There was no answer. Only gasping breaths as the page's nails fumbled uselessly against Klaus' iron fingers_. _He shook the boy like a dog does a rat. _"Answer me!" _

"He can't speak, Klaus," Hayley said quietly behind him. "You're holding him by the vocal cords."

He glared at her, before opening his fingers and allowing the boy's neck to slip from his grasp. He landed hard on his backside, gagging and spluttering, while furiously massaging his throat. Klaus kneeled before him, one hand wrapped around the collar of his torn linen shirt. He slowly pulled the quivering boy closer, until they were almost nose-to-nose.

"Now," Klaus murmured, blue eyes slowly shifting to gold. "You'll tell me what could have possibly possessed an idiot like you to forsake the iron-clad commands that my family and I have put forth. You do remember what they are, don't you?"

"O-only eunuchs may serve the-the Lady Rebekah."

Klaus growled. "Not that one."

"Er…we are never to enter the private chambers of you or Lord Elijah unless commanded to do so."

"Wrong again. You're starting to test my patience, _boy_," Klaus said impatiently.

"We're not to enter the forest on a full moon," he finally squeaked.

"Ah! There we are. So what cosmic force could have affected you so profoundly that you would defy the rules that my family has set in place?"

"It…was Marcel," the pageboy panted, face pale and eyes filled with agony and hopelessness. "He told us that something suspicious was happening tonight," he coughed, spitting out a large clump of clotted blood, "…said it was Elijah's orders and we weren't allowed to leave unless we found something worth telling."

Klaus' lips tightened. "You're lying, Marcel would never say that," he hissed, rattling the boy furiously. _"Tell me the truth!" _

"That is the truth," Hayley said.

Klaus scowled at her. "Hayley, you know nothing of—"

"I do," she interrupted, glaring back at him. "Marcel saw me in the carriage house. He started asking too many questions about what I was doing and where I was going." She dared to take a step forward, knowing that one wrong move could cost the young page's life as well as her own. "He was spying, Klaus. He knows about me. About what I am."

Klaus released the boy, and then rocked back on his heels, a contemplative look on his face. "Well, that's too bad about you," he said, glancing up at Hayley, grinning unapologetically. He then rounded on the pageboy, the destructive gleam back in his eye. "But you…you, in fact, were spying against my _family_ and there are indeed severe consequences for that."

The sickening crunch of shattering bone came before Hayley could utter a word in protest. Gasping in horror, she pushed Klaus out of her way; kneeling in front of the small, broken body. She stroked his mop of brunette curls softly.

"You didn't have to kill him." She reached forward tentatively and slid his eyelids shut.

"No, sweetheart. I did."

Hayley suddenly tensed, shivering. A prickling sensation rippled throughout her entire body and she straightened as the tingling intensified to a throbbing discomfort. Clouds had wafted away and the ripe moon was overhead, casting its silver beams down in milky ribbons. The transformation was commencing. It began slowly, each delicate toe and finger bone snapped in an almost elegant fashion, one by one. She could feel her canines lengthening, her vision was enhancing, the inaudible sounds of the forest were amplifying tenfold in her pointing ears.

"I need to go," she breathed, while turning and running deep into the cavernous depths of the forest. Klaus was beside her in an instant, easily matching her pace. She stopped and scowled at him, her lightening eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"What're you doing?" she gasped in a throaty growl, as a louder crack sounded, twisting her arms at unforgivable angles. She dropped to all fours, gritting her teeth against the agony ripping through her.

"Did you hear what that boy said?" He bent his head towards her, hands grasping her shoulders.

"_What the hell are you saying?" _she spit furiously, her back arching impossibly as her vertebrae splintered and lengthened.

"Focus love," Klaus said, his hands like steady anchors on her body. "He said 'us'. That means that there will be more than one of those little serving boys searching for you tonight." He pursed his lips. "I may not know the depths of your moral conscience, but I do know that you will not be able to live with yourself if their untimely deaths are your doing."

Hayley screamed. Her head reared back and an anguished howl tore from her lips, reverberating throughout the trees. Her legs were lengthening, forming gigantic paws where her feet were, and silvery-grey fur was starting to sprout in bursts along her back. The transformation was nearly complete.

"Chase me, little wolf," Klaus murmured softly. "I will be your prey tonight."

That was the last thing Hayley remembered before she succumbed to her true self.

* * *

Birds chirped cheerfully at each other from the snow-laden branches and the occasional squirrel scampered up the tree's trunk, bushy tail held high. They did not notice the slumbering human curled up at the base of their home.

Hayley rolled up to a sitting position, rubbing the sleep and snowflakes from her eyes. Squinting against the bright, frigid sunlight, she pressed her palms to her throbbing temples. She hated the aftermath of her transformation almost as much as the actual process itself. Her entire head pounded furiously and she stretched, feeling the slow ache and sting of the numerous bruises and lacerations she had accumulated throughout the night.

"There you are."

She did not turn around. "I'm not wearing anything, Klaus."

He smiled at that. "I thought you weren't one for modesty."

"I don't know what I was saying last night," she said exasperatingly. "Can you please fetch me something to cover myself with?"

"You're sitting on it."

She shuffled gracelessly to the side, fingers prodding the earth until she discovered the cloak hidden under mounds of spiny pine needles.

"Thanks," she muttered. Yanking it out of the hole, she draped the cloak around her body, as Klaus whistled a cheery tune. She stood up, glancing down and ensuring that the fabric was concealing all of her skin from view. Shaking excess debris off, she began ambling forward, reminding herself to take tiny strides or risk exposing herself. She had not yet taken three steps forward before she felt his fingers snag onto the cloak, nearly whipping it off her body.

"_Klaus_!" she said indignantly, rewrapping herself. "What the hell?"

"You cannot return to the castle looking like you've just had a wild romp in the woods," he said, eyes raking up and down her body. "There will be talk. Rumors will spread about why you were not killed yesterday by the mystic creature that everyone seems to fear. And then Elijah will have to find some creative way to squash the gossip."

"Can't you just compel them to forget?" Hayley asked irritably.

"Our entire staff is supplied with vervain and required to take a 'health potion' saturated with the herbs once a month. We're just a tad bit paranoid." He shrugged. "Just hide in the forest forever. It'll be spring soon, and I've heard it's quite lovely when the trees are swathed in green instead of white."

Hayley's eyes narrowed. "Don't be ridiculous, Klaus. We haven't even reached Christmas yet." She tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. His eyes followed the motion. "Help? Please? Use that diabolical mind of yours to get us out of this predicament."

"Us?" Klaus said, eyes wide with mock disbelief and shock. "As far as I can tell, love, this is your predicament, not mine. But…I'll give it my best effort. However, if I am unsuccessful and you have to live out your days as a social pariah, I will not be the one to blame."

Hayley smiled, extending her hand. "Fine."

"Alright, then. First things first." He reached forward and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and began marching away. Hayley grumbled crossly against his coat, but noted—with only a touch of shame—that she now had a particularly mesmerizing view of his taut backside.

Eventually, his rocking gait slowed and Klaus slid her gently to the ground. She turned away from him and her eyes widened into saucers, mouth dropping open in horror as she stared at the carnage before her. Bodies were strewn everywhere, some even had several limbs missing, and trees were painted in their blood. She shrank back, colliding with Klaus' chest.

"I thought you weren't going to let me kill them," she said softly.

"And I kept my promise. You didn't kill them. _I_ did."

"Why?"

He inhaled deeply through his nose, and Hayley appreciated that he was trying to keep his irritability in check. "Fending off a rampaging werewolf was enough for me and I was not about to save the lives of servants who could not be compelled to forget what they had seen. So, it was either they die by you or me. And forgive me for assuming, but I don't believe you would have liked their blood staining your pretty little hands."

"Oh," she breathed, still in slight shock. She hadn't seen butchery quite like this since the first time she had turned.

"May I continue? Or are you still going to question my methods?"

"Please," she said, gesturing at the destruction.

He reached forward, dipping his hand into the wide gash on the closest boy's neck. Once he withdrew, he approached Hayley, fingers painted in crimson.

She recoiled automatically, slapping his arm away. "What are you doing?"

Klaus reached forward and jerked her back to him, daubing the blood onto her lips and down her chin. "Proof. You can't wander back home and say you've been attacked when there's not a single scratch on you." He immersed his hand back into the blood and Hayley shuddered in disgust as he dripped more trails of red onto her neck and down her collarbone.

"Give me your hand." He extended his own for hers. She hesitated briefly before laying her pale wrist in his scarlet palm.

He noticed and reached for her chin, tilting her gaze up to his. "You don't trust me?"

She shrugged and lifted her jaw out of his grasp, looking away from his penetrating stare. "I don't know," she said truthfully.

His fangs elongated and she watched carefully as his nose brushed her wrist slowly, searching for the proper vein. His scarlet lips opened wider and before she knew it, his teeth were buried in her skin. He was not gentle; razor-sharp canines tore through her delicate flesh and she could not suppress a small yelp of pain. Scissoring his jaw to enlarge the wounds, Klaus couldn't help but note that her blood tasted superb. He withdrew after several agonizing moments (on Hayley's part) and observed his handiwork. Deep, jagged holes contrasted angrily with her fair skin and blood trickled out slowly in scarlet ribbons. They were nothing like the smooth, perfectly round bite marks a seasoned vampire would have left. This was the handiwork of a predator.

Hayley was visibly shaking, eyes glassy with unshed tears as she gazed at the wounds on her arm. Brushing a finger delicately across her torn skin, she hissed as the pain electrocuted her arm, shooting bolts of fire throughout her flesh.

"Can you walk?" He was surprisingly tender, his hands extended towards her.

She nodded, and then rose shakily to her feet, clutching her throbbing wrist to her chest. He kept a steady hand on the small of her back as they began the slow, silent trudge back to the castle. When they were about to break through the line of trees, Klaus stopped and bent towards Hayley, a small smile on his lips.

"Ready, little wolf?"

She returned his smile and he swept her up into his arms. "Let's give them what they want."

Hayley snuggled into the warm embrace of Klaus' arms as he walked towards the rear entryway of their home. Once they were in earshot of the entire castle, he began bellowing at the top of his lungs.

"_Elijah, Rebekah! Someone, please! Come quick! She's been attacked, she's dying!" _

Hayley rolled her eyes and sighed quietly into the pleasantly warm fabric of his coat. He was clearly one for theatrics. Before his shouts had stopped echoing throughout the grounds, throngs of people began pouring into the courtyard, surrounding them. She was immediately pulled from Klaus' grasp into the arms of a guard, while several of her ladies in waiting circled around them, shrieking at anyone who dared to come near. Cries of _'draw a bath!_', '_fetch a healer!_', '_Oh, God in heaven, look at that blood!_', filled her ears and she wanted to stuff her fingers into them. Finally opening her eyes and glancing up from the guard's shoulder, she saw Klaus' gaze boring intensely into hers. She smiled and mouthed her thanks to him. He inclined his head with the tiniest of nods and once she blinked, he was lost in the crowd.

* * *

High above the chaos, behind one of the tower windows, Marcel looked down, brows furrowed in annoyance. He hadn't expected her to be welcomed back with such fanfare and concern.

"You didn't tell me that she was a werewolf," he said, glancing behind him at the woman lying in his bed.

"A small detail," Rebekah replied, sitting up and drawing the quilt to her chest. She frowned. "Virtually insignificant. What does it matter?"

He turned away from the window and walked towards the bed, sliding in beside her. Stroking her cheek softly, he leaned in and brushed a whisper of a kiss onto her pouting lips. "It doesn't. When I'm with you, nothing in this entire world matters, but you. The feel of your skin, your lips, your touch…"

She grinned smugly. "That's what I like to hear." Pecking his forehead, she clambered out of the bed, unashamed of her nakedness. "I'm going to go freshen up for breakfast."

He nodded, and once the washroom door shut firmly behind her, he was at the window again, gazing down. The courtyard was empty now, save for a lone figure that he could have recognized in a heartbeat.

Klaus had remained rooted to the spot, his eyes fixated on nothingness. After several moments he turned and sped into the castle, leaving the courtyard oddly empty and silent.

A knock sounded at the door, and Marcel jumped. Striding across the room, he yanked it open to see Klaus standing on the other side; a dangerous leer perched on his curled lips.

"Ah, Marcel, there you are. Come," he smiled, gesturing out towards the hall. "We have much to discuss."

* * *

**AN: Hello everyone! Of course I'd like to start off by thanking you guys so much for the wonderful reviews and comments you left me! Thanks for feeding my muse ;) Now...Question time! **

**1. Why can't Rebekah and Marcel be together?**

**They can in the modern day sense (sex...), but they won't be able to marry/have babies because Marcel (in terms of social standing) is considered to be 'working class' (he's the armorer and the fencing master) while Rebekah is nobility and therefore can't marry below her social class. And because Rebekah's a vampire and can't have babies. So.. there's that. **

**2. Will Hayley ever be in Rebekah's position?**

**You mean, in terms of Klaus killing her boyfriends? I don't really see that manifesting itself because all of her potential suitors so far are immortal.. just sayin'. **

**3. Are you still counting votes?**

**Yep! But I am definitely leaning towards one of the couples! (but hey, maybe you'll change my mind?) I'm pretty close to mapping out everything about this story, it'll be quite interesting... :) **

**Well, that's all! I cannot thank all of you enough for the support that you have given me! I love each and every one of you guys! *hugs* too cheesy...? Anyways... Please read, review, follow, and favorite! **

** btw.. anyone not have school on monday? way too excited for that... because then i'll be able to stay at home and write more and not study for my midterms. yup. Have a wonderful weekend! **


	5. Chapter 5

A storm howled against the night sky, screaming, battering, and shaking the walls of the castle. Panes of glass rattled in their metal cages, while being bombarded with ceaseless showers of fist-sized balls of hail.

Katherine Pierce sat quietly in the velvet armchair, her cold, dark eyes gazing penetratingly into the blaze burning in her fireplace. Her wrath today had been as uncontrollable as the blizzard that raged outside, for the vampire army that she had amassed for the Lockwoods had failed.

She had been anticipating the eventual news of defeat, knowing that the Mikaelsons must have somehow caught on to the secret alliance that she had built with the Lockwoods. Yet, when news of surrender finally did arrive, she had almost throttled the messenger. A lone survivor from the army had struggled back to the Lockwood stronghold, babbling about the dark magic that the Salvatores possessed and how the entire army was useless under the rain of fiery arrows that they had unleashed. She had decapitated him then.

And in her blind fury, she had taken the lives of several others who dared to approach while she was still contemplating the news. One of them was a stable hand that took exceedingly good care of her prized stallions, and he was now lying in front of the flickering flames, staring sightlessly back at her as blood slowly leaked out of the twin holes in his neck. She almost felt a small speck of remorse for him, as her eyes roved over his still form. But that thought soon left her already-crowded mind. Katherine Pierce was not one for guilt; centuries of scheming and betrayal had eradicated those words from her vocabulary.

A crystal goblet was in Katherine's right hand, filled with blood supplied from the body lying at her feet. Slowly raising the ruby-colored glass, she took a delicate sniff, and then turned her head away, nose wrinkled. She was in no mood for more blood tonight.

A gentle knock sounded at the door.

"What?" she growled, mouth puckered with annoyance.

The door swung open with a creak and one of her handmaids walked in timidly, a weathered envelope clutched carefully in her hands.

"What is it, girl?"

"Lady Katherine, a letter—" Her eyes widened when she saw the stablehand lying on the floor, his blood staining the crimson rug a deeper red.

"Ignore that," Katherine ordered, her pupils dilating. She extended a hand for the letter, while using her bejeweled slipper to roll the bleeding body off the woven wool. Once the parchment was safely in her palms, she dismissed her handmaid with a flick of her wrist. Breaking the emerald green wax seal, she unfolded the paper delicately, inhaled deeply, and began to read. As her eyes skimmed over the parchment, a smile began to bloom on her scarlet lips, widening and developing into a full-fledged grin when she had reached the bottom of the page.

Chuckling quietly to herself, she refolded the parchment, and then tossed it into the fire. The flames licked up the paper greedily, devouring it until there was nothing left of the letter but dark gray ash. Reaching for her crystal goblet, she raised her glass in a mock toast, and threw her head back, draining its entire contents.

Marching quickly over to her door, she threw it open and entered the adjoining room.

"Davina?" she called. "I have a favor to ask of you."

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Rebekah asked, applying another cooling cloth to Hayley's forehead.

"Like death," Hayley replied hoarsely. "Very hot death. Hell, probably."

"You know bad things happen when any scheme involves my idiot brother."

Hayley smiled weakly, her eyes slowly drifting shut. "I'm learning that very quickly."

"I don't see why you won't let me heal you. It would save you from this agony." Rebekah wrinkled her nose. "And get you into a bath tub."

Hayley shook her head as fervently as her weak muscles would allow. "No. Thank you for the offer, but I don't want it. Code of honor for us werewolves. I don't need any of your blood inside of me."

Rebekah pursed her lips, pale blue eyes darting to the staining cloth around Hayley's arm. "Ever the masochist. What you _do_ need is a change of heart. And bandages. I'll get Father Kieran, it seems that they've already soaked through."

Hayley grumbled quietly, already anticipating the pain that came with removing the strips of linen wrapped tightly around her wrist. No matter how gingerly the healer pulled, bits of her skin always left with each mangled and moist piece of fabric.

When Rebekah had left the room, Hayley turned her face into the pillow under her greasy hair and let out a stifled groan. She was utterly and completely fed up with the prescribed bed rest that had accompanied the infection that was running rampant in her wrist. Klaus had obviously not been very careful when creating the imitation bites on her skin. According to Father Kieran, whatever 'dreadful, deranged animal' that attacked her on the night of the full moon had also managed to create a hotbed for infection. Klaus accredited that to the werewolf venom running in his saliva. Hayley accredited it to her stupidity for actually listening to the smooth talking bastard and allowing him to bite her. And of course—with Hayley's luck—several days later, she had found herself stricken with a violently uncontrollable fever and various shades of yellow pus leaking from the gaping wounds on her arm.

Hayley groaned again, hand fumbling for the cloth and slapping it to her scorching forehead. She had been forced to endure this bed for nearly a week. The windows had been shuttered to prevent a draft from entering and a fire perfumed with healing scents was constantly burning. The aroma was cloying and mixed with the putrid odor wafting off her arm, Hayley was quite surprised that Rebekah—with her heightened sense of smell—was maintaining her composure so well.

Hayley glared at Father Kieran as he entered the room, dark robes swirling around his tall legs. He plucked up her arm and began to unwind the strips of linen, clucking in dismay all the while. When he finally reached the last layer, he looked at Hayley, his lips wide with a falsely sympathetic grin.

"Ready, my lady?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," Hayley muttered, teeth locked firmly in place around a thick rag Rebekah had pushed into her mouth.

With a sickening ripping noise, the linen was torn swiftly from her skin and Hayley muffled a screech into the cloth. She spat the rag out immediately and Rebekah leaned forward, staring curiously at the bloodied scrap.

"I bit my tongue," Hayley explained, clearly annoyed. Rebekah frowned behind Father Kieran, and then mimed biting her wrist and offering it to Hayley, who muffled a giggle into her uninjured hand and shook her head.

Father Kieran pulled a roll of linen strips from his robes and began smearing a greasy, foul-smelling paste onto them. Hayley watched in mild disgust as he took her wrist and began gingerly wrapping the sopping fabric around her arm.

"Father Kieran, what on earth is that?" she asked, tilting her head away from the gagging scent.

"A mixture of vinegar, garlic, sage, and cloves. It has a variety of healing properties."

"You're going to use the same herbs on me that the cooks slather on dead animals?"

"They're quite beneficial," Father Kieran reassured her. "On one occasion, I've seen the paste knit flesh together."

"It better," Rebekah said threateningly from his other side, one hand resting delicately—but menacingly—on his shoulder.

She sighed, and then patted Hayley's cheek. "I've got to meet Marcel, but I'll be back within the hour." She kissed Hayley delicately on her sweating forehead and then strode out the door. "Keep her alive until I return…and get some smelling salts in there too," she barked over her shoulder at the chambermaids dawdling in the corner.

Hayley fell back against the pillows as the crowd of handmaids that were gathered in her room slowly filtered out. She wanted to throw off her blankets and slather herself in the freshly fallen snow outside. Her previous requests to do so, however, were swiftly, not to mention sternly, rejected by both Rebekah and Father Kieran. Yanking the quilt over her tangled mane of hair, Hayley's eyes slowly drifted shut and she willed herself into a fitful, feverish sleep.

However, before a minute had even ticked by, there was a soft tap on the door. Hayley groaned and rolled onto her stomach, sinking her head into the cool cotton pillow.

"Who is it?" she demanded tiredly, her throaty voice smothered by the goose down of her pillow. The door swung open and Elijah walked in, basin of cool water in one hand and several small towels in the other.

"It's only me," he said softly, closing the door with his boot. He set down the bowl and cloths, before gently laying a hand on Hayley's forehead. She closed her eyes as his cool palm brushed lightly over her burning skin.

"I would have been here sooner, but Commander George needed me with him on the war campaign," Elijah explained. He brushed several locks of her dark hair off her clammy forehead and plucked up a cloth, immersing it in the water. Wringing out any excess liquid, he draped it delicately over her skin. Hayley closed her eyes in contentment, her breath passing her lips in a soft sigh.

"You didn't have to go to the trouble," she breathed, eyes still shut.

"Nonsense," he smiled at her, tucking the quilt securely around her body. "You are my family. And I'd do anything for them."

Hayley smiled softly, her eyelids sliding open to see Elijah eyeing her perspiring skin and labored breaths, eyebrows knit with concern.

"Hayley…"

"No," she interrupted as vehemently as she could. "I refuse to talk about…" she gestured at her body, "...this. I've had healers and ladies in waiting squabbling at me over my health for days. I am absolutely _sick_ of this nonsense. So, we're going to talk about something that concerns you. How goes the war effort?"

His lips quirked. "Not the best distraction, but I'll follow your lead. The war has improved moderately. We finally decided on using vervain against Katerina's vampire army. It was an easy victory. Her young ones are inexperienced and they fell quickly to the vervain arrows. After that, all our army had to do was pick through the fields and stake any incapacitated vampire they found."

Hayley's brow furrowed. "You must have attacked during the day. Firing arrows at a vampire horde in darkness would have been impossible."

Elijah nodded. "Indeed, we fought at high noon. The sun was directly overhead."

"Then how did those vampire survive being burnt alive?"

"That was a question that I've been meaning to ask you, considering that you lived in close proximity with Katerina for an extended period of time. So you wouldn't happen to know how she shields her army from the rays of the sun?"

Hayley shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. Lady Marianna Lockwood kept me away from Katherine. None of us girls were allowed to associate with her and we obeyed. The boys, however, were quite difficult to control."

Elijah nodded in assent, eyes downcast with a sad half-smile on his lips. "Of course they were."

Hayley eyed him suspiciously. It may have been the medicinal herbs working in her system, or a fever-induced vision, but she could almost swear that Elijah looked faintly envious. Suddenly, something dawned on her and her eyes widened in astonishment.

"It's you," she said quietly.

"I don't understand, my dear."

"It's _you_," she repeated. "You're the reason why Klaus could never capture Katherine. You've been keeping her ahead of your brother all these years."

"Hayley, what are you—" He said hastily.

"We're family, right? And we don't keep such matters from each other. Please don't lie to me, Elijah," she pleaded, taking his hand. "I've had enough of this world's falsehoods and fabrications. I don't want to see you in that way."

Elijah immediately stood and smoothed a hand softly over Hayley's flushed cheek. He pressed a kiss delicately to her blazing skin, before rising and walking towards the door. Her concerned gaze followed his back. Elijah's tone was loving, even sweet, but his eyes were clouded and unfocused.

"Rest, dear one. I believe the fever is reaching its peak."

The door clicked shut behind him and Hayley burrowed her face into her hands with a groan.

* * *

Hayley woke hours later to bright moonlight streaming into her room through the naked windows. Heavy velvet curtains had been pulled back to let in watery beams of frosty starlight. Resting a hand delicately against her forehead, she let out a relieved sigh. The throbbing headache was gone and her forehead felt gloriously warm, instead of its usual scorching heat. She sat up and stretched, feeling the deep ache within her bones.

"You were right."

She jumped and her eyes flicked towards the armchair positioned next to the smoldering fire. Elijah sat there, his lips pursed and fingers laced delicately together, eyes gazing softly into the dying embers.

"No," she breathed. "Elijah, I should not have, it was—"

"Hayley," he interrupted, standing up and settling himself at the foot of her bed. "You were right…about everything. The fever has made you remarkably intuitive." He smiled, almost proudly. "You are part of our family, and families do not keep secrets, wouldn't you say so?"

"Mine did the contrary," she replied saucily. "But I definitely do agree with you."

"Well then, allow me to begin. You are aware of the Petrova doppelgangers as well as the sun and moon curse?"

Hayley nodded. "Familiar lore. The Lockwoods spread the tale throughout their households. We were taught to fear the hybrid that had managed to unshackle his werewolf side and had the ability to sire some sort of superior race."

Elijah grinned. "It seems the Lockwoods do possess a healthy amount of fear. But in order to unlock his werewolf side, Klaus needed a Petrova doppelganger, which is why we found Katerina…"

"And then you fell in love with your brother's sacrifice."

Elijah's brow furrowed. "Yes. Niklaus and I disagreed so strongly over her that we came to harsh words and even blows. But I offered Katerina an escape the night before the ritual was to take place and she took it, though I hadn't any idea that she intended on turning. When we encountered her again, Niklaus intended to use her as the vampire component for the sacrifice, but once again, I—in my foolish, love-stricken state—thwarted him."

"Not foolish, brave is what you were. To sacrifice everything in your life for the woman that you loved." Hayley murmured quietly, taking his hand in hers. "What happened then?"

"Niklaus has no tolerance for those that disappoint him," Elijah sighed. "And I did so, continuously over the many years that we traveled together. And finally, he had had enough with me. I did not wake for several centuries with his dagger in my heart. But when I did, I dreaded that Rebekah would bring me news of her death. But there was nothing to fear, for Katerina had grown considerably more devious; she had built an empire of allies and had turned into someone that was definitely not the young, innocent girl that I had adored."

"Yet you continue to help her?" Hayley asked, head tilted to the side. "She has done nothing but cause you pain all these years and still you persist in defying your brother?"

"I…do not have an answer. I spent decades chasing Katerina with Niklaus and releasing her from his grasp an infinite number of times. If we were ever to meet directly in war, I do not think that I would have the strength to plunge a stake into her heart."

"But, neither of you will ever be allowed in the other's arms. Klaus would force you back into that coffin and you wouldn't see the light of day for another century."

"She and I are immortal. My brother's tempers are like the summer storms that plague this castle; they are severe, but short. Who knows what the future shall bring for us?" He leaned down and grazed his palm sweetly over her matted hair. "I think that is enough for today. Rest, I have kept you far too long."

She wrapped a hand around his wrist and smiled sheepishly. "Stay."

He bent down and kissed her forehead slowly, lips lingering slightly. "Perhaps another time, my dear. Sleep well."

* * *

**AN: Hello there dear readers, thank you so much for joining me! Of course I would like to thank all the lovely people out there who have been reviewing, favoriting, and following this story. I can't tell you how much it means to have all of your support! Thank you so much! I do realize this is a bit of a filler chapter, but I needed Hayley to understand Elijah's history and I needed them to show a degree of closeness that was not present before in their friendship. Nevertheless, I hope you guys enjoyed anyways! Nowwwwww, question time!**

**1. Why did Klaus want Hayley to hunt him? **

**As a werewolf, Hayley is not able to control her actions and will hunt whatever comes across her path. And since Klaus is indestructible, he's a good distraction for her so she doesn't slaughter all the little boys. While Klaus is a morally ambiguous character, I believe he understood that Hayley would not be too happy with herself if after only a week at her new home, she kills a bunch of innocent people. Granted, they shouldn't have been there in the first place, but I don't think Klaus minded taking care of them. However, Hayley is not like Elena of VD who (when she first turned) tries her absolute hardest not to kill at all and is incredibly repulsed by the idea. Hayley is a werewolf, which means she has obviously killed in the past, and she is not afraid to do so again if that gets her what she needs. But killing a bunch of innocent serving boys does seem a tad bit unnecessary, so Klaus does it for her. A bit of a lengthy answer, (heh heh...) but I think her motives do need some explaining. **

**2. Is Davina going to show up?**

**Absolutely! Although she doesn't make a direct appearance in this chapter, Davina will be appearing. Obviously she is not with Marcel (like the show), but is with Katherine. We'll see how that plays out... heeheeheee...**

**3. Will the brother not paired with Hayley get a love interest?**

**This I considered for a longgggggg time. And as of right now, I'm thinking no... it would be a tad bit complicated to weave another major couple in, unless someone can think up an absolute fabulous pairing for Elijah/Klaus that can get my creative juices flowing for them. Throw in your suggestions! Ya'll know I'm totally open to that! ;)**

**4. Is Marcel good or bad? **

**That remains to be seen...**

**PS: what are your thoughts on the latest episode?! Am I the only one that's really sad that it's now Klaus vs. every other character in the show? :( Poor guy.. he needs a hug... **

**Please read, review, favorite, subscribe! Have a wonderful rest of the week! xx**


	6. Chapter 6

Hayley groaned loudly, flopping back against her pillows. "Another week?"

Father Kieran pursed his lips and prodded the gaping holes delicately again. She growled softly under her breath as more dark red blood poured from the wounds.

"It's not… awful," he finally said, retying the linen around her wrist. "The infection is gone, but something is keeping the wounds open. Your skin is unable to seal back together."

Hayley gnashed her teeth, silently cursing all things _Klaus_ in her mind. After her fever had broken the previous night, she had been allowed to leave the confines of her bed and finally stretch her limp muscles. But she was still imprisoned inside the walls of her bedroom, for fear that if she ventured outside, she would succumb to any other contaminant that wafted through the halls. And so Hayley remained indoors, her nose pushed hopelessly against the glass of the window seat as she gazed down at the festivities that she was prohibited from participating in. Her frustration grew with every snowball fight and sleigh ride she was forced to watch from her lofty perch, with no hope of ever partaking in one herself. The Yuletide season was in full swing and—although she could not fault Rebekah—even Elijah had been kept reasonably busy with the necessary preparations.

Evergreen trees had been hauled in to adorn the various ballrooms and she could practically hear Rebekah's voice carrying through the halls. _("Not there you dolt, it's covering a window…Lord have mercy, I'm going to have to do all this myself…I said _gold_, not yellow…I'm surrounded by imbeciles…") _Luscious smells from the kitchens perfumed the halls and Hayley's mouth watered as she stared sadly at her bowl of plain oatmeal. She had been refused any rich food, lest it somehow trigger another fever. Hayley thought her eyes would roll into the back of her head when Father Kieran explained his reasoning to her.

But, she had been largely left alone, forgotten in her lavish prison. Her only sources of company were her exasperating ladies in waiting and Father Kieran, who she had gradually come to despise. His ineptitude had irked from the beginning and his odd, curling smile made her skin crawl.

"I've prepared a new concoction for you. Hopefully this will be the answer to our prayers," he grinned at her in a reassuring fashion, although Hayley was most definitely not comforted. He left the room with a swish of his black robes, shutting the door soundly behind him, and leaving Hayley alone with her poisonous thoughts.

"My, my, how wonderful you look, little wolf."

Her eyes flew open. The root of all her problems stood there smiling, blue eyes sparkling with something devious. She glared at him, funneling all of her rage and irritation into narrowed slits.

"This is all your doing."

"Mine?" he smirked. "I did all that I promised you. No one has questioned your story, and you are not an outcast, correct?"

"Hardly an outcast," she replied brusquely. "The women won't leave me alone with their pestering questions. They think the monster in the woods fancies me because it allowed me to live."

Klaus merely cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Why, Lord Klaus, an absolute pleasure to see you," Father Kieran sing-songed as he waltzed in, stinking bowl of useless herbs in his hands. "Our Lady Haylia is in desperate need of some company."

"Not this type of company," she muttered under her breath. Klaus' smile broadened.

Grasping her wrist, Father Kieran unraveled the bloodied linen while Klaus peered over his shoulder inquisitively. Ogling the rich blood oozing from the wounds, dark veins began to spider daintily around his glowing eyes.

"_Klaus_." Hayley said sharply, eyeing him suspiciously.

His amber orbs snapped to hers, immediately fading back to blue and he grinned unabashedly. Father Kieran continued his work and reached for the basin, grasping the wooden spoon. He stirred the lumpy mess and Hayley inhaled curiously as the fumes from the bowl drifted up lazily. A stinging sensation immediately tore through her nose and throat and she coughed vigorously, retching slightly. Ignoring her reaction, Father Kieran quickly seized her by the hair and yanked her to him. He plopped a large dollop of the mixture onto her wrist and then her throat, rubbing furiously.

Hayley screamed and clawed viciously at Father Kieran's face, tearing his grasp from her hair and throat. The pale mauve paste was burning into her flesh like acid; agonizing volts of pain were shooting through her arm and neck. Her skin was blistering fiercely and it looked as though she had thrust it into a bed of hot coals.

By the time she had vigorously scrubbed her skin of the paste, Klaus had Father Kieran by the throat and pinned against a wall. Even she could tell that the herbs had also affected him. His eyes were bloodshot and his words slightly garbled

"What the bloody hell did you put on her?" he seethed, throat slightly constricted.

"I…haven't any idea," Father Kieran replied solemnly. His face was slack and blank, utterly devoid of expression.

Klaus' lips formed a snarl and he whipped him across the face, shoving the unconscious priest to the ground. "He's been compelled. And then replenished with vervain."

"But how?" Hayley demanded, clutching her aching wrist and rubbing her raw scalp. "Who in this castle knows that I'm a werewolf? And has the ability to obtain wolfsbane? It's incredibly rare—the Lockwoods saw to that."

"No one should have any sort of knowledge about who you truly are," Klaus snarled, stalking the length of the room. "That's the reason why I gave you those bloody marks in the first place."

Hayley snorted. "Of course. And thank you for that, by the way. I've loved being shut away like some storybook princess in a tower."

"You are most welcome."

"Did I say loved? I meant _loathed_."

"I'll take him to Elijah, we'll drain him, then pry open his brain for questioning."

"Literally?" Hayley asked hopefully.

Klaus smirked and grabbed a nearby cloak folded delicately on the chair and began to wrap Father Kieran in it. It was the same cloak that Hayley had worn the night of the full moon. Splatters of red coated it and the metallic scent of blood was still evident in the fabric.

"No!" Hayley gasped, one hand extended.

He stopped and gazed inquiringly at her, busied hands suddenly motionless on the still-bloodied fabric. The priest's head flopped out of the cloak, swollen purple tongue lolling out.

"It… was a gift," she said awkwardly, her cheeks flaming. "From Elijah."

"Ah." Klaus unrolled Father Kieran and refolded the cloak carefully, laying it gently on her bedside table. His expression was distant and cold. "My apologies."

Grasping the comatose priest by the foot, Klaus proceeded to drag him from the room and down the hall.

"Klaus, wait."

Hayley had appeared in the entryway to her room, barefoot and wearing nothing but a delicate ivory slip. Leaning against the doorframe, she smiled shyly at him.

"Thank you. That's three times now."

He released the priest's boot with a loud thump and walked towards her, intense sapphires burning into emeralds. His hands rose, cupping her cheeks tenderly, rough thumbs slowly grazing over her electrified skin. He was much too close for comfort and her eyes slid shut slowly under the onslaught of his gaze. Her head tilted up ever so slightly as his soft breath wafted over her, bathing her in its warmth.

"Let's not try for four, shall we?"

And then he was gone. The soft pressure of his hands disappeared and when her eyes opened, both he and Father Kieran had vanished. She glared at the space that he had previously occupied and grumbled silently.

"Tease."

* * *

"This is…perfection."

Rebekah was nearly clapping her hands with glee, gigantic smile stretching her cheeks. She circled Hayley, her hands held up to her mouth, trying to conceal her delight underneath them.

Hayley groaned loudly. "This is insanity."

She stared at herself in the gold-framed mirror, barely comprehending the figure that was gazing curiously back at her. The corseted gown sent from a renowned dressmaker in France had transformed her body, turning her into a woman she could hardly recognize. Her waist had never been tinier, and her small bosom had never been more pronounced. The rich fabric was a lush emerald green and was arranged, she was forced to admit, quite stunningly. Although she could not deny that the dress was doing astounding things for her form, she could hardly draw in a breath without splitting the corset and had to take little, mincing steps in order to keep her balance.

"Don't be ridiculous," Rebekah snorted, smoothing her skirt of any invisible wrinkles. "They're all going to love you in this."

Hayley turned away from her strange reflection, shooting Rebekah a suspicious glance. Rebekah looked away as soon as Hayley spoke, though her wicked smile immediately gave her away. Hayley's glower hardened. "What do you mean _they_?"

"It's nothing, nothing at all to be concerned about," she waved her hand nonchalantly, a twinkle in her eyes, "I would have thought he would have mentioned it, but Elijah's going to be presenting you to the nobility at the Yuletide Ball."

Hayley's lips parted in a snarl. "_No_. I refuse to be paraded around like a piece of meat. Do not subject me to this, I have done nothing wrong."

Rebekah grasped Hayley's hands in hers. "Precisely. You've played your part perfectly. And this is part of your role; you must be presented to the court since you are old enough to be courted."

Hayley pulled free of Rebekah's hold, grumbling audibly. "Must I?"

"Do you want to be free of your room or not?" Rebekah wheedled. "From what I've heard, you suffered an attack from one of our own within these very walls. Wouldn't you want to be rid of the place that holds those memories?"

She was right. It had only been two days since the excitement following Father Kieran's savage assault towards her, but she was quite ready to leave her wooden confines. Her chambermaids had been unable to air the last remnants of wolfsbane from the room, so Hayley had been forced to endure the stinging fumes. Planting her hands on her corseted waist, Hayley turned back to her favorite Mikaelson with a huff. "Fine. I suppose coercion works."

Rebekah winked, her wide grin dimpling her perfect cheeks. "Of course it does. Wouldn't you say so, Nik?"

Hayley's gaze snapped up and she saw him in the reflection of the mirror. Leaning against the doorframe, he was magnificent, garbed in a black tunic edged in gold thread.

"There are many different types of persuasion. All of mine are equally effective." He walked into the room, circling Hayley as Rebekah had done, with an odd gleam in his eye. "Sister, Elijah is in need of you. He mentioned something about the table seating for the upcoming festivities."

"Again?" Rebekah asked exasperatingly. "I've already told him exactly what I wanted. You can't seat a Gilbert next to a Fell. We're going to have two bloody wars on our hands."

She rushed out of the room with a swish of her skirts, leaving Klaus alone with Hayley. Picking distractedly at her fingernails, she tried to focus intensely on a knot in the wooden floor instead of him. She hadn't realized how close he had come until she lifted her head and he was there—gazing curiously at her waistline, eyes slowly, agonizingly drifting upward until they met hers.

"You'll be happy to know," he finally said. "That the healer is dead."

Hayley let out the breath she didn't know that she had been holding. "What did you do to him?"

"Not very much. His mind had been utterly decimated. The compulsion was obviously done by an amateur. I gave him an easy death."

"You couldn't have saved him for me?" Hayley asked viciously, remembering the savage welts burnt into her flesh that had just barely healed.

"Beauty on her skin, but murder in her heart," he smiled broadly, "I do believe that you are growing on me."

She wrinkled her nose at his declaration. "Don't lie. Falsehoods disgust me."

"I would never. My word is iron."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Heaving a sigh, she tried to shoo him away. "Never mind what I said. Please go. I need to fetch Jane Anne or Sophie to remove this silk prison off of me."

Cocking an eyebrow, Klaus' eyes wandered over the back of her dress, scrutinizing the intricately tied laces. "Your handmaids? They may have other talents, but unlacing a stunning dress from an even more striking woman is not one of them." Warm hands slid over her hip bones and delicately molded to her waist. She shivered as his body slowly aligned with hers, her exposed shoulder blades barely grazing the elaborate stitching of his tunic. His hands drifted up lazily and rested on the small of her back, the ends of the laces in each palm. "May I?"

Gathering her wits about her, Hayley wrenched herself away from him. "_No_."

"No?" He was clearly stunned at her actions and his hands dropped immediately to his sides, fists clenching and unclenching.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" she said, frustrated at her own lack of self-control. "There are thousands of women in this castle and you could ravish any one of them in whichever twisted way you choose. Yet you come here, and shower me with such undeserved praise, speaking to me as though I were some sort of goddess descended from the heavens. What is it you want from me?"

"Love, I have but the best intent—"

"Don't you dare use that word on me," she snapped, her irritation mounting. Pacing away from him, she crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling quite exposed under Klaus' prying stare. "I am well aware that you do not love me. You made it quite clear the first time we spoke that you did not trust me. So, why continue saving me?"

He made no answer and but his gaze hardened and he simply glared at her, brow tightly furrowed and stiff fists still clenched.

Hayley's bubbling anger fueled her courage and she marched up to him, rooting herself solidly in his line of vision. "I refuse to be the pawn in whatever game you're playing. So, I repeat. _What is it you want from me?_"

She had broken past the charming façade that she often found so incredibly perplexing. The playful smirk had disappeared, along with the mischievous glimmer in his blue eyes. He was cold and rigid. Taking a menacing step forward, he invaded her personal space, dipping his head down until their eyes met icily.

"You want to know what it is that I want?" he murmured quietly, a touch of hatred in his voice.

Her bravery seemed to have deserted her in her greatest time of need. But she met his glare with equal intensity, though her knees were trembling fiercely underneath mounds of emerald green skirts. "Yes."

"I want Katerina."

"_What?"_ she exclaimed, nearly giddy with relief. She snorted—in a very unladylike fashion—and placed a hand on her cocked hip. "You gave me such a fascinating performance and the only thing you wanted was _Katherine_?"

He clearly did not share her sentiments. "I have been hunting her for hundreds of years," he growled. "And yet she continues to elude me. I want to know why."

"And why would I help you? You've done nothing but lie to me about your true intentions."

Klaus stepped forward and grasped her wrist, ignoring her attempts to pull away. Untying the knots that secured the linen strips to her skin, he unwound the bloodied fabric, allowing the cloth to drift lazily to the ground. "What if I promised you, that these wounds could be healed?"

She snatched her wrist away, though hope began to blossom in her heart. "I refuse to take your blood. It's a werewolf antidote…you'll kill me."

"No, I have a much better solution." Marching over to the door, he yanked it open and roared out into the hallway. _"Sophie, Jane Anne!"_

The women immediately appeared, as though by magic. Walking demurely into the room, they both curtsied respectfully to their mistress. They kneeled at her feet, hands folded primly over their simple black gowns, awaiting their orders. Hayley smiled in return at her chambermaids, and then turned to Klaus, eyeing him doubtfully.

"You brought my handmaids?" she frowned.

Klaus ignored her and nodded at Sophie and Jane Anne. "Do it," he commanded.

They rose as one and encircled a very anxious Hayley, each resting a palm delicately against her bleeding wrist. She hissed at the contact, the pain still very much evident in her flesh. The sisters began reciting in Latin, eyes closed, with musical voices entwining together splendidly. A warm flush crept through her skin and Hayley watched in amazement as the dark muscle within flexed and knitted together in ascending layers. Her skin writhed and sealed itself together seamlessly, only leaving behind twin scars.

Hayley's lips parted in wonder and she stared at her handmaids, who were both smiling impishly. They had always played the perfect role, serving her without giving her the slightest inkling of their true nature.

"I can't believe it," she breathed; mouth still slightly agape in astonishment.

Klaus grinned. "I did say that they had _other_ talents."

* * *

**AN: Hello there! Of course, I want to thank all the wonderful people that read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed! You guys are fabulous and I love each and every one of you! I got plenty of people telling me that they missed their Klaus, so hopefully this chapter will suffice. (he was in both sections!) Now, onto the questions!**

**1. Are we going to find out more about the war? **

**Definitely, although not anytime soon, I'm afraid. I've already got the next several chapters planned! I also think that I'm hopeless at writing battles, so we'll see how that plays out! Hopefully, I don't disappoint :(**

**2. Will we be meeting any Lockwoods/Marshalls from Hayley's past?**

**Yes! We have yet to learn about Hayley's backstory, and I shall remedy that relatively soon. It's not going to be a pleasant past though, I can definitely assure you that her childhood really sucked...**

**3. Where is Klaus?!**

**He is here! Or there... Sorry, I know he didn't make an appearance last chapter and I do apologize, especially since TO has been lacking in the Klayley department lately. But he's here now!**

**4. Are the Devereaux sisters going to show up?**

**They did! Small cameo, I don't have too much planned for them. They'll make small appearances, I'm sure, but I don't think they're going to be shaping the plot of this fic too much. **

**5. Is Father Kieran going to be doing anything interesting? What about Camille? **

**He did, but then he died. Sucks to be a human..poor guy got his booty compelled by some vamp, then killed. :( No Camille as of now, I don't see her doing a whole lot even if she was put into the story.**

**Well, that's all for this update! Thanks to everyone that reviews, subscribes, and favorites! I get the biggest smile on my face every time my phone lights up and tells me that I have another amazing reader that enjoys my writing. Please let me know what you think of this chappie, I would love to hear your opinion! Have an amazing week! **

**PS: I was browsing through tumblr when I saw an anon ask about my fic on werewolf-tales . tumblr . com (-FOLLOW THIS BLOGGGGG, pretty amazing drabbles, if i may say so myself) Anyways, the anon wanted some good klayley fics and in response, this blog posted mine as one worth reading. So, this chappie is for you werewolf-tales! Thank you sooo sooo sooo much for promoting my fic to the tumblr world! Kisses! xx**


	7. Chapter 7

"It's done."

Katherine looked up from the letter that she had been scribbling furiously away on. Davina stood in the doorway, her face haggard and dark circles ringing her drowsy eyes. The delicate lavender nightgown that she wore was stained and crumpled. Her thin legs trembled with the pressure of trying to stand and her slim, pale fingers gripped the doorknocker unsteadily. Katherine rose and approached her, opening her arms to the younger girl. Davina immediately stumbled forward into her embrace without any hesitation, resting her head on Katherine's chest with a contented, weary sigh.

Katherine ran her fingers delicately through Davina's wild halo of mussed hair. "I knew you could do it, darling. You mustn't doubt yourself, you are capable of far more than you think."

Davina smiled. "I realize that now. Thank you for believing in me." Raising her head from its comfortable resting spot, she beamed at Katherine. "Do you want to see?"

"Absolutely."

Katherine clasped Davina's hand and they strolled into the young witch's lair. The entire den was lit with thousands of candles, each flickering brightly and perfuming the air with jasmine. Dark curtains had been drawn across the windows, preventing any light from penetrating the room. A rough oak table dominated the room, littered with countless pages of spells, candles, and mortar and pestles. Several dozen glass jars had been lined in neat rows, each containing a strange swirling entity within. They appeared as though Davina had managed to capture the fog that cloaked the castle stronghold every morning and secure them within the jars. Katherine leaned forward, peering curiously at the jars that Davina had bewitched, watching the mists within swirl and spiral.

"This can incapacitate a werewolf?" she asked doubtfully, plucking up a jar and inspecting it. Her perfect brows wrinkled as she scrutinized the odd wisps of smoke twirling and writhing.

Davina nodded, hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"Tell me how they work."

"Each jar has been infused with wolfsbane. They are all enchanted so that when I break one jar, each will follow suit. Once I finish the spell, the entire castle will be full of this mist. Once the mists inside take effect, it will be impossible for anyone to hide," Davina said proudly. Wolfsbane was an extremely strong herb and resisted her attempts at enchantment incredibly well. It had taken her weeks and nearly all her strength to capture the essence of the plant and intensify it within the containers. She had barely slept a wink since Katherine had come to her chambers with her devious plan. But Davina did not refuse her savior's request, knowing that failure on her part was not a welcome component of Katherine's strategy.

Katherine smoothed one hand delicately over Davina's pale cheek, clearly satisfied with her work. A half-smile formed on her blood-red lips and she pecked her witch's forehead lightly, and then pushed her gently towards the perfectly made bed. It was clear that no one had slept in it in quite a while. "Sleep, dear one. I need you to replenish your power. The daylight spell has been quite taxing upon your strength."

Davina frowned, bottom lip protruding ever so slightly. "If I didn't have to cast a daylight protection spell over thousands of vampires, I wouldn't be as weak as I am now."

Tucking her witch into the silken sheets of her bed, Katherine smiled patiently. "Of course not, dear. But not to worry. Our next attack will be under the cover of darkness." She pulled the white coverlet up to Davina's chin and hummed soothingly. "Goodnight, little one."

Katherine shut the door to Davina's hideout with a soft click and marched back to her desk, muttering crossly under her breath.

"Brat."

* * *

"You're late."

Marcel ran the last few steps, before collapsing at her feet. She crossed her arms, a subtle action, but one that spoke volumes. He panted heavily, lungs furiously pumping air back into his body and releasing the tension in his screaming muscles. The cavern echoed with his labored breathing and pebbles crunched beneath his boots as he rose.

"I'm sorry. Rebekah… refused to let me leave."

"You couldn't tell her that you had another _breastplate_ to hammer?"

"Katherine, it's not as simple as you may think."

She pulled the hood back from her face, revealing stony, narrowed eyes and curled lips. "Simple? It's very simple, Marcel. You came crawling to me, begging for the gift of immortality and I selflessly provided it to you. You owe me a debt. And that debt is spying on the Mikaelson family. Which is quite difficult considering you've been taking far too many tumbles in the sheets with that blonde whore."

Marcel glared at her, fists clenched at his sides. "Don't call her that. And I didn't _beg_ for anything from you," he snarled. "I almost killed you the night that I was on patrol for the castle guard. If you weren't so terrible at hiding, maybe I wouldn't have shot that vervain arrow straight through your heart. And _you_ begged _me_ not to kill you. What were you doing there that night, anyways?"

She smiled humorlessly, her deadened eyes sparkling wickedly. "I offered you a deal and you took it," she stepped forward, resting her palm on his heart, dagger-like nails digging in slightly, "Don't forget, I may have placed you in your true form, but I can just as easily take it away."

Pulling her hand away, Katherine wiped at her bloodied nails with a silk handkerchief, inspecting each finger carefully. "So, the priest is dead?" she asked nonchalantly.

Marcel's breathing came to a standstill as his blood thundered rather deafeningly in his ears. His brief moment of courage had immediately withered and he almost cowered away from Katherine. Her power and ruthlessness suddenly became apparent and he wanted nothing but for the stone floor to open up and swallow him within.

"Yes," he finally replied, eyes downcast.

"Father Kieran is dead, but the wolf Haylia still lives?" she said softly, her slender fingers twitching. "And why is that?"

"I did exactly as you instructed," Marcel said. "I drained the priest and compelled him to make sure that Haylia's bite wound would not heal. And then I ordered him to kill her using wolfsbane."

Katherine rolled her eyes. "Evidently, it did not work. She knows our secrets; she is valuable to the Salvatore's campaign. I wanted that deceitful, manipulative, little bitch dead, but that did not happen. What exactly went wrong?"

"Klaus was there. He saved her."

Pursing her lips, she squashed the sudden urge to spit on the floor at the mention of his name. "Klaus…" she hissed. "Suddenly so noble. I wonder what brought that to the surface." Tapping her lips with a crimson nail, she furiously paced back and forth, heeled shoes clicking against stone. Her eyes unexpectedly widened with glee and she turned swiftly, poking Marcel in the chest. "Does he _fancy_ her?"

He shrugged. "I highly doubt it. Every time I see them together they're squabbling over something. Elijah, on the other hand, seems rather fond of—"

His breath left him as Katherine seized him by the neck, and smashed him against the rock wall. Dark veins bloomed around her black eyes and she snarled, fangs dropping. "_No._ Do not ever say that again," she growled threateningly.

Releasing her stranglehold on Marcel, she paced away from his crumpled body, not wanting him to see the emotion brewing on her face. Marcel stood up gingerly, brushing the dust from his trousers, observing the rigidness of her back curiously.

She turned back to him and he could spot the tiny glimmer winking at him on her eyelash before she blinked it away. "We'll be taking Haylia at the Yuletide celebration. There will be blood. Prepare yourself."

He nodded. "I shall."

Katherine stalked up to him deliberately, her dark scarlet cloak swishing around her thin frame. Though she clearly saw him as her subordinate, she reached up and rested one cold hand against his cheek. He shivered.

"Remember who will be winning this war, Marcel," she cautioned quietly. "Don't choose love over your life."

* * *

The Great Hall looked absolutely spectacular, Hayley was forced to admit. And although patience was the least of her virtues, she dutifully followed Rebekah around the massive ballroom as the blonde Original chattered animatedly about everything, giving the occasional obligatory "mmm", "uh huh", and "yes, of course it's beautiful!"

Her mind slowly drifted away from the mindless prattle that Rebekah had been spewing for the past half hour, fixating on something that was much more paramount in her thoughts. Her presentation to the nobility. She shuddered with dread, a cold sweat breaking out onto her palms and trickling down her spine. Although she had conceded to Rebekah, Hayley immediately sought out Elijah afterwards and begged him to reconsider. To her surprise, he had actually agreed with his little sister and Hayley found herself without allies.

"Hayley!" Rebekah snapped, her arms folded resentfully over the silver embroidery of her gown. "Could you at least pretend to pay attention?"

"What?" Hayley asked, slightly startled. "I am."

She shook her head. "No, you're not. You almost ran over poor Lord Stefan."

Hayley flushed scarlet, and bobbed her head uncomfortably to the Commander's son who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. "My apologies, Lord Salvatore, I was not aware of your presence."

Stefan smiled broadly and waved away her apology. "Not to worry. I am as transfixed by the splendor of the Great Hall as you are. Our Lady Rebekah has outdone herself this year."

Rebekah flashed him a broad smile and swept into a curtsy that was infinitely more graceful than Hayley's. "My Lord is too kind to say so," she murmured, with only a touch of pride. Hayley knew of her true feelings for the young Salvatore and silently applauded Rebekah on her splendid acting skills. "But, may I ask what you are doing here so early? The celebration is not until tomorrow."

Stefan smiled, flashing blinding white teeth. "My father has been feeling slightly…under the weather. He requested I take his position at the ball, but I thought that I could get a tour of your lovely home, if I'm not being too presumptuous."

Rebekah cocked an eyebrow, and then extended her ringed hand to him. "But of course," she smiled coldly, as Stefan slipped her hand onto his arm, practically beaming.

Hayley watched their artificial mannerisms wearily. Though she had missed much of the social interaction that applied to a woman of her class, she had not been prepared for the onslaught of people that had thrown themselves at her when she appeared at her first public supper since the 'attack'. Endless amounts of kisses fell onto her hand, falsely kind words were exchanged, and her ears were ringing with loud guffaws of laughter by the end of the night. She had forgotten how utterly exhausting court life could be.

Allowing Rebekah to take control of the conversation with Lord Stefan, Hayley ambled away from them, eyes trailing over the garlands of holly berries and ropes of diamonds wrapped around each evergreen tree.

"My sister has outdone herself, has she not?"

Hayley turned, and then launched herself into Elijah's open arms, laughing boisterously. He stumbled back slightly, before regaining his balance and wrapping his arms tenderly around her. She pulled back and grinned, suddenly very receptive to the holiday cheer that Rebekah had been trying to stuff her with.

"A very warm welcome, thank you," Elijah said, taking her elbow and trotting them from the ballroom.

"I haven't seen you in nearly a week," she replied. "Besides Rebekah, you are the only one that I can stand in my company for extended periods of time," she squeezed his arm gently, "And I thought that you were cross with me."

"Over what?" Elijah asked, grabbing a candelabrum from a nearby alcove.

"Over my inability to allow you to keep your secrets to yourself."

Elijah pushed open Hayley's bedroom door, tugging her in after him. "Must I keep reminding you? We are a family now, whatever is mine, is yours. Including my secrets."

Hayley returned his smile hesitantly. She hoped he that he was not serious. There were some things in her life that she would definitely prefer to keep buried deep. Glancing around her room, she inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh smell of lye and soap, rather than the uncomfortable spicy sting of wolfsbane.

"It smells fantastic in here," she breathed, almost lightheaded with happiness. The choking scent of wolfsbane had enveloped her whenever she stepped into her room. Vanilla and cloves now scented the air and she twirled happily, her skirt whirling around her legs.

"Wait, I have a gift for you," Elijah said, interrupting her little dance and handing her a package. It was fairly large and wrapped in plush velvet with a large black bow tied around it.

"Elijah, no—" she said, pushing his hands away gently. "It's not even Christmas yet. And you've given me more than enough."

"I insist," he replied. When she shook her head again, he tugged the ribbon off the package himself and unfolded it to reveal a long, woolen cloak. Her mouth popped open and Hayley's feet moved forward of their own accord, her fingers tracing the wool tenderly. Elijah draped the cloak around her shoulders and tied the ribbons with a flourish, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. She unconsciously snuggled deeper inside the fabric, her fingers drawing the cloak closer around her.

"How did you know the original cloak was destroyed?" she asked, fingers stroking the satiny cloth.

"Niklaus informed me. He said that you were quite attached and would perhaps enjoy a new one."

"Oh…" she murmured, her confusion evident in her furrowed eyebrows. She found it extraordinarily odd that he recalled such a small detail about her. She had seen nothing of Klaus since the Devereaux sisters had healed the gaping wounds on her arm. He had yet to claim his end of their bargain, though Hayley was in no hurry to give it to him. "I can't believe he would remember something like that."

"My younger brother may have his flaws, but he is not the monster that many make him out to be," Elijah said gently.

"No, that's not what I—"

Elijah waved her words away, shaking his head. "I understand that that was not your intention." Raising a hand, he placed it on her shoulder reassuringly, "Are you nervous for the ball tomorrow?"

Hayley nodded furiously. "Like an innocent man headed for the gallows."

"You needn't be. I've been informed that the dress is spectacular. You'll be fending off suitors the entire night. I have several letters to reply to, but I shall see you in the Great Hall in an hour."

He pressed his lips to her cheek and she smiled sweetly, momentarily distracted. Immediately, her brow wrinkled and she called after his retreating back. "Wait, what's happening in the Great Hall?"

His grin was mischievous and his warm brown eyes sparkled with delight. "You don't know? Rebekah has not yet told you?"

Hayley stepped forward quickly, shaking her head frantically. "Elijah, please don't let this be another one of Rebekah's...activities."

The smile stretching his cheeks could not have been any wider.

"Ballroom dancing."

* * *

**AN: Hello there dear readers! Thank you so much for joining me :) As always, I cannot thank all of you enough for your comments, favorites, and follows! You guys mean the world to me! Thank you for helping me keep this story going, it would be nowhere without all of your support! As always, it's question time!**

**1. Will we see any more of Marcel?**

**Yes indeed! I swear, you guys always ask the questions that immediately get answered in the next update. Your predictions are insane.. Anyways, yes! More of Marcel to come now that we know for sure that he's a traitor. I didn't elaborate too much on his reasoning, but if you'd like me to explain, let me know!**

**2. Any Katherine?**

**Yes as well! Katherine is very much the villain of this fic, which is something that I adore about her. (She's one of my favorite characters from TVD!) She's wonderfully diabolical and I look forward to adding more scenes with her. (And maybe even with Elijah! some people seem to want them to be together...what do you think?)**

**3. Jealous Klaus?**

**Ermmm.. perhaps..? **

**4. Are we going to see Hayley's presentation to court?**

**Without a doubt, yes! i'm terribly excited for that, though I haven't actually put it down on paper yet! Lots of pretty dresses, pushed up boobs, booze, and grabby dudes. It'll be great!**

**That's all for this update, let me know what you think! Where do you think this fic is headed? Please read and review, I'll give you virtual hugs ;) No Originals tonight, but there have been some interesting pics released from episode 1x09! Go check them out! Have a fantastic week everyone! **


	8. Chapter 8

"This is incredibly satisfying for you, isn't it?" Hayley asked, wincing as the royal cobbler attempted to wedge her feet into another set of pixie sized shoes. She immediately kicked them off, shooting the bespectacled man a murderous glare. Clearly, Rebekah was right when she had informed Hayley that she would sincerely regret not having her feet measured.

Rebekah was settled serenely on an ornate footstool, sipping wine delicately from a ruby-encrusted goblet. She shrugged, chuckling quietly at Hayley's apparent discomfort. "Immensely."

Several ladies in waiting gathered around Rebekah's feet sighed and simpered over what a _lovely_ thing it was that the royal cobbler himself was making shoes for her. Hayley did not share their views. The man had spent the last half hour futilely trying to stuff her—clearly much too large—toes into heeled shoes that had recently been imported from Italy. She had scoffed extensively over them ("Why are there spikes on the bottoms of the shoes?" "You mean I have to balance on stilts all night?!"), but desisted when Rebekah scowled at her, plump pink lips pursed.

Hayley's lips ultimately upturned into a genuine smile as the cobbler finally managed to slip a pair of emerald satin shoes onto Hayley's feet. He extended a hand to her, a toothless smile framing his lined face and Hayley rose carefully to her unsteady feet. She felt as though she were a newborn foal, learning how to stand and walk properly.

Rebekah motioned her forward and Hayley stepped forward gingerly, hands splayed in case she took a tumble in those ridiculous shoes. She smiled triumphantly when she had finally crossed from one end of the room to the other.

"Now, now," the cobbler instructed, pointing at Hayley's slumped posture. "We must stand straight, with our shoulders back, belly tight, and bosom out."

Hayley cocked an eyebrow and wrinkled her nose at his words, but was immediately put to shame as the cobbler slipped on a pair of his own shoes and strutted around the room, proud as a peacock. Growling inaudibly and refusing to be outdone by the ancient man, Hayley drew herself up to her full heights and followed in his footsteps, chin raised pompously. Unbeknownst to herself, she glided after him elegantly, playing the role of picturesque noblewoman perfectly.

Her ladies in waiting clapped and giggled, and even Rebekah allowed her a satisfactory half-smile. Rising from her perch on the red velvet, she clasped the cobbler's liver-spotted hands and kissed him delicately on the cheek. "Thank you, Sir Flemming. It was an absolute pleasure having you here with us today." She pressed a small bag of gold into his hand while the women fawned over Hayley. He grinned his gummed smile and bowed graciously out of the room.

"Thank you, ladies," Rebekah addressed the crowing ladies in waiting, and then took Hayley's arm, lacing it with hers. "For joining us today. I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow at our Yuletide celebration."

She strode rapidly from the room, dragging a tripping Hayley behind her. They weaved furiously past manservants rolling barrels of onions and leeks as well as chambermaids meticulously scrubbing away at the stone floor. Once they had reached one of the many staircases that led to the lower levels, Rebekah slowed her breakneck speed, allowing a stumbling Hayley to catch up.

"What was that all about?" she moaned, grabbing the marble railing for balance and rubbing her sore ankles.

Rebekah raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I thought that you had mastered the shoes already."

"I've been wearing them for all of one minute, Rebekah," Hayley shot back. "I'm not an acrobat."

Looking around for any bystanders, Rebekah seized Hayley by the elbow and dragged her into a nearby nook behind a stone column. "The shoes," she whispered quietly into Hayley's ear. "The heels have been liberally coated with vervain. Use them if necessary."

Hayley's eyes widened. "And why would I need to use them?" she murmured back frantically.

"We're a paranoid family," Rebekah replied flippantly. She took Hayley's hand again and they resumed their course down into the ballroom. Hayley's tentative gaze drifted over the room and met Elijah, allowing her to let out a sigh of relief.

"It's just you," she sighed, taking his extended hand.

"Honestly, Hayley," Rebekah sighed frustratingly, rolling her blue eyes. "What did you think I was going to subject you to?"

"Torture and humiliation," she replied back smartly.

"Well, there will be none of that tonight." A voice spoke up, velvety, smooth, and richly accented. A woman swept over to Elijah and Hayley, her shoes clicking sharply against the dark marble flooring. She was the epitome of sophistication and grace, dressed in an elaborate satin gown with not a single strand of her red hair breaking free from a tightly wound chignon. "As long as you follow my directions to the letter."

"Madame Donovan, our resident dancing mistress," Rebekah gestured towards the older woman, who dipped down into the most elegant curtsy Hayley had ever seen. She groaned internally. There was no power in the world that could make her look less like a bumbling idiot next to the polished beauty of this woman.

"Let us begin. First, you will take the hand of your partner and he will lead you into the beginning of the dance." She motioned towards Hayley, who slipped her hand onto Elijah's outstretched one. They had barely taken a step forward before Madame Donovan had stopped them.

"No, no, no, dear. You don't _stomp_ forward," she took Hayley's place next to Elijah and the pair floated together perfectly, "Small steps, think of yourself as light as the whisper of a moth's wings."

Hayley growled inaudibly, but did as she was told, thinking herself as delicate as those annoying, winged bastards who often completed suicide missions by flying into the candles she kept burning nightly. Her stilted shoes benefited her posture and to her surprise, she glided effortlessly into the first stately steps of the pavane with no reproach from Madame Donovan.

"Rise up, higher, onto the balls of your feet," she called as Hayley and Elijah circled the room. "Two steps back…left foot first dear…three steps forward…no my lady…follow the rhythm of the music…no, it's left right left, not right left right…that's still not better…"

If it weren't for the warm, reassuring pressure of Elijah's hand around hers, Hayley would have ripped off her new shoes and thrown it at the dancing mistress. She glanced around for Rebekah, who was—once again—nowhere to be found, presumably gone to look for Marcel.

Nevertheless, Hayley continued dutifully; stepping forward, then backward when commanded to do so and trying to turn in time to the music. Hours later, when she had finally managed to master the pavane, her back was soaked in perspiration and even Elijah had removed his waistcoat.

"Better," Madame Donovan finally relented. "Much better."

Hayley beamed, her first genuine smile since she stepped into the blasted ballroom. Elijah ran his palm up and down her spine, grinning at her proudly.

"And you told me you would hate it," he murmured in her ear as he draped an arm over her sweating shoulders.

"I never said that I would hate it," she replied, returning his embrace and clasping her arms around his abdomen. She rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes briefly in exhaustion and contentment.

"Don't dawdle now," Madame Donovan barked, clapping her hands briskly. "You still have four more dances to learn!"

* * *

They gathered in the dark on horseback, cloaked by the shadows of the forest. One by one, each member of the fifty-strong vampire horde slid off their steeds and gathered together silently, with one lone figure standing tall in the center of their circle.

Warm rays from the sun were long gone, sinking below the misty purple mountains and shrouding the Mikaelson's castle in the remaining gloom. Merry shouts could be heard from within, cries of "Merry Christmas!", "more wine", and "Huzzah!" pierced the air. The joyous notes of several fiddles could also be heard, along with the stomping of a well-choreographed dance.

Katherine Pierce smiled. The element of surprise was her favorite deceitful trick in the book and she relished the fact that she would be using it tonight. Her dark, stony eyes travelled over the vampires that she had selected, examining each of their facial expressions carefully. She was met with determination, fierce glee, anticipation, and …fear. Stalking closer, she seized the chin of the frightened vampire in her slender claws, nails carving crescent marks into her pale jawline.

"What is your name, dear?" she asked dangerously.

"Rose," the girl squeaked.

"Something wrong, Rose?" she murmured softly.

"N-nothing, my lady," the girl murmured, eyes frantically darting everywhere except in Katherine's direction.

"Now, that's not the answer I was looking for." Katherine reached forward and ran her silver bracelet gently over the Rose's cheeks, tracing long blisters into her delicate skin. She screeched deafeningly, frenzied hands scraping at Katherine's arm until she relented. "Try again."

"I-I am afraid, my lady."

Katherine's lips curled. "Obviously. Tell me why."

"The Original vampires…they are _powerful_. I've seen it myself. And we are to take what they have deemed under their protection? I call it madness."

Katherine nodded in assent. "Mm, I understand."

Rose sighed in relief, visibly relaxing, not knowing that it would be the last breath to leave her lungs. Katherine lunged forward and Rose suddenly found herself skewered against the evergreen tree behind her. Her hands scrabbled uselessly against the stake that had been driven through her heart, garbled screams tearing from her desiccating lips. Katherine smirked as her cries quieted, and then loosened each slender finger wrapped elegantly around the stake's handle. The young vampire remained impaled to the tree, her long, blonde tresses covering her already mummified features.

"What some call madness, I call brilliance," she snarled at Rose's swinging body. Turning away, she addressed the curious onlookers that were peering over her shoulder at the dead vampire. "Anyone else care to voice their opinions?"

Immediately, every member of her vampire host dropped their eyes to the forest floor and silence reigned. Not a single muscle twitched, nor did an eyelash flutter within the throng, lest they trigger their mistress' infamous temper.

"Good," she said, directing her vampires' attention to the night sky with one pointed finger. "Davina will cast the spell when the waxing moon is directly overhead. We have approximately one hour. Remember who we are pursuing. I have been informed that the wolf girl will be in green; I want her and her only. All others are free to do with as you please."

Her vampires nodded in agreement and she watched as their fangs dropped and darkened blood vessels began to spider around their eyes. Sighing dreamily, she stared up into the inky blackness as the moon slowly rose to its rightful place in the sky. It was almost time for her revenge to commence.

* * *

"Rebekah!" Marcel's roar sounded through the corridor for the third time, startling the many pageboys and serving girls bustling by. Their curious stares followed the fencing master as he finally managed to catch their elusive mistress. "I need to speak with you."

"Can't it wait, Marcel?" Rebekah asked, trying to brush past him "I've got to prepare myself _and_ Hayley tonight. Lord knows that our girl is in desperate need of my help."

"No, it can't."

"Oh, please Marcel, we can finish our earlier business later—"

She stopped as Marcel seized her roughly by the shoulders, dark eyes drilling into her pale ones. "Now," he snarled, his expression haggard and frantic.

Her eyes narrowed at him, but she took his arm, tugging them both into an empty room nearby, away from the many sets of prying eyes. "What do you want?" she barked, clearly irritated with him.

"I need you and Hayley to switch dresses tonight."

"_What_?" she demanded. "No. It took me days to find the perfect gown for her and I am not letting my hard work go to waste."

"Rebekah, please," he pleaded, eyes desperate with worry. She frowned—Marcel never begged her for anything. He was perpetually light-hearted and free; that's what she had adored about him. No worries ever seemed to plague him, yet the man standing in front of her seemed to be swamped with them.

"Marcel, why—"

Her breath left her as he shook her soundly, even her eyeballs rattled brutally in their sockets. It was strange; he was much stronger than she remembered. One hand slipped around her neck, cradling her face to his. "I can't explain. But something's going to happen tonight. And I need you to be in Hayley's dress. Can you promise me that you will do as I say?"

Rebekah nodded slowly, reaching one hand up delicately to graze her hand over the rough stubble of his cheek. "Yes." Her eyes travelled over the rigid posture of his body, before coming to a rest on the strange object he clutched in his right hand. "What's that? It looks like some sort of …odd smoke."

"Again, I can't explain." He slipped the jar into his pocket.

"Marcel…" Rebekah pouted angrily.

The urgent press of his lips abruptly cut her off and she immediately returned his bruising kiss, twining her arms around his neck. He pulled back after several moments, gasping for breath, and she touched her forehead to his softly. He kissed her again; painfully tender and slow, and Rebekah's heart ached fiercely in her chest.

"Something to remember me by," he breathed. And then the door slammed shut behind him. She stood there stunned, her fingers grazing slowly over the plump flesh that Marcel had just ravished. Her knees were weak and she squeezed her trembling lips together tightly. Gathering her wits about her, she flung open the door and flew up the stairs into Hayley's room, hurling the door open with an almighty crash.

Hayley was already inside, dressed to perfection in the gown that Rebekah had meticulously chosen, with her dark curls caged inside a diamond net. Ladies in waiting and chambermaids—several who were looking quite shell-shocked—were surrounding her, their chatter dying instantly upon seeing the frazzled Rebekah.

"Leave us."

The women rose as one and curtsied graciously, before filing out, eyes downcast away from the blonde Mikaelson. She slammed the door shut and began to furiously pace the room, shoes clicking crisply against the wooden floor. Hayley did not dare to approach her, equating that with the dangers that came with provoking a wild animal.

"Get up," Rebekah finally said to Hayley. "You need to change out of that dress."

Wordlessly, Hayley stood, presenting her back to Rebekah as she reached forward and plucked away expertly at the cords holding the dress together. Hauling the enormous gown swiftly over Hayley's body, Rebekah threw it onto her own, turning her back to the confused werewolf who—after pausing for a brief moment—began pulling the taut crisscrossed laces.

"Tighter," Rebekah demanded. "This may be tailored for your body, but I still want to look the best that I can."

"And why, may I ask, are you wearing my dress?" Hayley finally asked, her curiosity getting the best of her while her fingers striped themselves red and white as she tugged mercilessly at the ribbons.

"That's not important right now. I'll discuss it with you, Elijah, and Nik in a moment. Now I need to find you something appropriate." She eyed her reflection in the mirror, planting her hands around her tapered waist. "Good enough."

"It ought to be," Hayley muttered under her breath. "Or else, I might have lost a finger."

Ignoring her comment, Rebekah marched over to Hayley's wardrobe and peered inside, rummaging through the massive heap of frocks piled inside. She yanked a black gown out of the mess and tossed it over Hayley's head, fingers automatically adjusting the corseted laces.

"Black, Rebekah?" Hayley sighed. "You hate black."

"It's to ensure that you do not attract any excess attention tonight," Rebekah replied as she continued to strangle Hayley with the corset. Her vampire strength soon had Hayley's waist reduced by nearly a quarter and she eyed her handiwork carefully.

Although the gown had been a last minute selection, Hayley was quite impressed with Rebekah's choice. The rich, dark fabric illuminated her pale skin, and her green eyes shone like polished emeralds. Delicate silver embroidery weaved its way across the scandalously low neckline, twirled around the bodice, and then darted down the skirt in river-like cascades.

Clasping Hayley's hand in her own, Rebekah swept the both of them into Elijah's study, nearly running them headlong into her two brothers in her haste. Elijah peered up at them from the leather bound book that he had been perusing, while Klaus barely spared either woman a glance. His attention was fixated on the drastically more interesting crystal tumbler filled with whiskey in his left hand. Elijah could immediately sense the tension rolling off of Rebekah in waves and gently clasped his sister's shoulders.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern knitting his brow as he guided her to a seat.

"I…don't quite understand it myself," she began, quickly spilling out everything that Marcel had told her. Elijah's frown deepened, while Klaus remained unconcerned, blue eyes staring sightlessly into the hearth that he was propped against.

"Marcel told you this?" Elijah demanded, chin propped on his clasped hands. "How on earth would he be aware of such things?"

"I don't know, Elijah," Rebekah shot back, her fingers curled around the chair's armrests. "Perhaps we should fix our attention on the more important matters at hand. What do you think he was talking about?"

"There's really only one explanation," Elijah murmured, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "The Lockwoods are attacking tonight."

Rebekah hissed, her blue eyes turning to slits. "Tonight? At our ball? That is just the quintessential example of bad manners."

"From what our scouts have told me, the Lockwood's human armies are still gathered farther north. The only resources they have with which they could use to storm the castle are Katerina's vampires."

"Well, then how do you presume to keep out a horde of immature, angry, and bloodthirsty killers?" Rebekah demanded, her arms crossed sullenly. "I shan't have my evening ruined."

"Simple, really," Elijah explained, coming to stand behind Hayley, resting his hands on her shoulders. "The castle belongs to us, which means that any being, supernatural or not, may enter. However, if we were to pass ownership onto a human, all vampires must be granted access before they can step foot through our home."

Hayley stared up at him in utter shock, eyes wide with disbelief at his words. She shook her head vehemently, pushing away the quill and paper that Rebekah had shoved at her. "No, I can't."

"Hayley, honestly, it's just a piece of paper." Rebekah rolled her eyes, thrusting the quill into Hayley's hand. "And it's the easiest solution. I've worked far too hard to have tonight ruined by that woman and her infant army."

"The both of you are mad. I refuse," Hayley said, her desperate eyes turning to a silent Klaus for help. "Tell them. Talk some sense into them."

He shrugged, taking another swig of whiskey. "What can I say? Once again, my brother is right. It's a sensible solution."

Surrounded on all sides, Hayley scowled at Klaus, though she wondered why on earth he would ever side with her. Heaving a sigh, she picked up the discarded quill and pulled the parchment towards her. "As you wish," she muttered, scrawling her name across the bottom of the page.

"Err…Hayley," Rebekah began, as an invisible force immediately began to slowly shift the three Originals towards the door.

"Oh, of course. Please come in. All three of you." The Mikaelsons immediately stopped moving, their feet drifting back to solid ground.

"Excellent," Elijah said, plucking up the paper and folding it into his breast pocket. "Now, that that's solved, let us enjoy the lovely evening that my dear sister has planned." Taking Hayley's hand in his own, he led her from the room. Klaus stared at the empty doorway after they had passed through.

"A bit early for heavy drinking, don't you think?" Rebekah asked, glaring at the fifth glass of alcohol that Klaus had poured himself.

"It's never too early, baby sister," he replied, his words slurring just the tiniest bit. Pecking a kiss onto her forehead, he placed his lips next to her ear. "The new dress is better."

* * *

"Wait a moment," Elijah said, his hand stopping Hayley in her tracks. Plucking a small box out of his pocket, he handed it to her. "It's Christmas now."

Hayley tried to step back, but he followed, his hand curled around her waist. "Elijah," she sighed. "Must you spoil me so?"

"Yes."

She rolled her eyes, but laughed anyways, her excited fingers lifting the lid. Nestled on dark satin, a silver pendant necklace glinted beautifully at her. A delicate 'M' encrusted in diamonds dangling from the silver chain met her wide eyes and she reached inside tentatively, one finger stroking over the precious stones.

"Rebekah has a similar one. I thought it fitting that you should as well." Releasing the necklace from its satin prison, he draped it delicately around Hayley's bare neck. Her eyes glittered as fiercely as the gems around her throat.

"M for Mikaelson?" she asked, hand caressing the chain.

Elijah quirked an eyebrow at her. "M for Marshall."

"Oh," Hayley breathed, cheeks flaming. "Right."

"It's open to interpretation," Elijah smiled, kissing her hand softly. Turning her to face the enormous doors that separated them from the gathered throng below, he clasped her hand in his. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Hayley grinned back nervously. Elijah nodded at the herald, who immediately sprang to attention.

"The Lady Haylia, of House Marshall. Presented by Lord Elijah of House Mikaelson." The double doors swung open in unison and a roar erupted, greeting Hayley and Elijah as they stepped forward.

* * *

**AN: It's almost ball time! Anyone here excited? Okay, first off: HOLY CRAP YA'LL. I got such an insane amount of reviews for the last chapter, you guys are amazing! Some of these reviews were super long (which i love), and filled with a bunch of questions so let me hurry up and get started on that:**

**1. Do you count the anonymous reviews as votes for Klayley/Haylijah?**

**I guess I forgot to write this in one of my author's notes, but I am finished counting! I made up my mind several chapters ago and I thought it was rather obvious who I'd chosen. I will not blatantly state who I've picked as any type of literary work is up to interpretation. Please do not hate on either Klayley/Haylijah, our fandom is already rather small, we shouldn't alienate each other! **

**2. Hayley/Elijah dream?**

**Hmmmm, im not too sure how i would work that... If you could find a plausible way for me to incorporate a haylijah dream, i'm definitely open to it!**

**3. Why would Hayley find it odd that Klaus remembered that her cloak had been ruined?**

**Oops, maybe my writing wasn't very clear, but Hayley found it odd that Klaus remembered her attachment to the cloak, not that the cloak was blood-stained. (as Klaus did the staining...) I reread the chapter and I'm not too sure where you got 'bitter look and petulant jealousy' from? **

**4. I don't sympathize with Klaus at all!**

**Well, this isn't a question, but I thought that I would express my opinion about it. I absolutely agree, I do not sympathize with show!Klaus because I obviously do not condone him attempting to strangle a pregnant woman or biting his brother. However, this is a different universe and although Klaus is every bit the mass murderer/smooth talking serial killer that we all know and love, he is absolutely not an abuser of women. **

**5. When will Hayley be pregnant?**

**Er... eventually? I can say with certainty that it will be before the war is over.**

**Ok, that is it. People got really passionate in the reviews and it threw me off a bit! Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter, we will be reaching the ball next! Please read and review, let me know what ya'll think! Have a wonderful Thursday!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: This chapter contains depictions of sexual assault. Please take that into consideration as you read. Rating has been changed from T to M.**

* * *

They slowly descended the absurdly long flight of stairs, Hayley frantically trying to remember every word that Mistress Donovan and Sir Flemming had ingrained in her momentarily blank brain. Her head swirled and her mouth was bone dry, tongue swollen to twice its size and wooly with nervous anticipation.

Even so, she was statuesque and flawless to all, posture perfect and steps fluid as Elijah guided her into the first paces of the stately court dance. Couples surrounded them and she flew gracefully through the complicated footwork, passing from one man to the next. The fiddles' jolly melodies soared throughout the room as everyone smoothly transitioned from the pavane to a lively gavotte. The spirited dance allowed her to release a burst of breathless laughter as she was whirled back into Elijah's arms. He grinned proudly at her and she couldn't hold back a smile of her own. With an extravagant flourish, the fiddles played their last note and the Great Hall exploded and thundered with the deafening clapping of hands and the stamping of feet.

And just like that, one of the most dreaded moments of her evening had passed without her tramping on some poor lord's feet, or tripping over her long skirts. She made a mental note to thank Mistress Donovan profusely the next time she saw her. Elijah guided her up to the high table after she had finished curtsying to the entire drooling male population, seating her gracefully between him and Klaus.

The other Mikaelson looked unusually disgruntled, his nose buried in a wine goblet. He had not risen from his seat the entire night and seemed uninterested in the feast that had commenced. Elijah motioned for choice dishes to be passed to various members of the nobility in thanks for their attendance.

Hayley's stomach was growling loudly as Rebekah had allowed her barely any sustenance all week, lest she not fit in her corseted gown. She sampled everything that was laid in front of her, taking care to consume tiny bites, as the whalebones of her corset were already biting into her ribs. Endless gulps of wine could not slack her thirst and the multitude of serving girls were quick to refill their mistress' goblet.

The Great Hall looked even more magnificent than it had the day before. Candles were everywhere, illuminating the rich scarlet and emerald glow emanating from artfully arranged bouquets of poinsettias and mistletoe. Chandeliers swathed in crystals dangled from overhead rafters, shedding light on the dancing throng of nobility below. Hayley had never seen so many half-exposed breasts in her life, though no one else seemed to mind.

Despite Rebekah's efforts, her plan of swapping gowns seemed to have failed. Even though the darkness of her dress should have allowed her to fade seamlessly into the background, countless pairs of eyes were still fixed pointedly on her. Men of all ages, particularly the married ones, were staring blatantly at her (mainly her chest), and she felt oddly offended, but obliged to smile back at each and every one of them.

As the night progressed, Hayley continued to fend off potential dancing partners throughout the night, momentarily forgetting her etiquette and informing several that she was more invested in the abundant dishes and copious amounts of wine laid out before her. It was not until Rebekah had swept by, jabbing her inconspicuously in the ribs, before she finally relented. Dropping her fork onto her emptied plate, she accepted Stefan Salvatore's extended hand and followed him into the midst of the mass of whirling bodies. He settled one hand delicately around her waist, the other clasping her palm with his. They twirled together, Hayley's feet somehow moving correctly of their own accord, despite the enormous amount of liquor she had already consumed. Though they were pressed together almost intimately, silence reigned in the small space between the two of them. Hayley wracked her brain, thinking of something pleasant to break the frosty silence. As they stepped through the paces of the dance, his body continued to drift closer and she tensed somewhat in his arms.

"Enjoying your evening, my lady?" Stefan finally asked, a cocky smirk on his parted lips.

"Of course, my lord Salvatore," she replied courteously, trying to keep him an arms length away. "It's turning out to be quite a success, don't you think? Lady Rebekah is a mastermind."

"I don't think it is Rebekah that is the success here, but you, my darling." His hips moved a fraction closer, skimming across the lustrous fabric of her skirt. Hayley was revolted, but she knew that it would have been rude to shift away, so she remained grudgingly in her uncomfortable position. Bile rose in her mouth and her reply came through gritted teeth.

"My lord is kind to say such things."

His hand slid lower down the small of her back, pressing her another inch closer to him. He grinned widely, his breath stinking of rum and bloodied meat. Dipping his lips to Hayley's ear, he whispered quietly while she gulped softly and shivered in disgust at his closeness. "I can say many other things. Words that can make a woman quiver with desire and tremble with need…"

Before a deeply offended Hayley could backhand Stefan across the face, a hand seized her elbow roughly.

"May I cut in?" Elijah asked, his normally smiling lips set in a tight, straight line. He radiated power and control and Hayley immediately shifted towards him, her hand twining around his.

"Of course. Take what you will." Stefan smiled a lopsided grin and melted into the crowd, presumably to harass another unsuspecting woman.

"Are you alright?" Elijah murmured quietly, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist.

"_No_." Hayley's eyes were blazing, her irises practically bursting into emerald green flames. Her teeth were tightly clenched and her hand tightened in Elijah's hold, nails digging into his skin. "That was disgusting."

"I understand. If it's any consolation, Rebekah dislikes him as well."

"It is not," Hayley growled. "But I can clearly see why."

Before Elijah had a chance to reply, he was tapped on the shoulder. The man—or boy, rather—seemed mildly pleasant, his lips upturned in a sweet smile that complimented his laughing grey eyes.

"May I have the pleasure of dancing with our lady of the evening?"

"Lord Jeremiah," Elijah grinned politely, releasing Hayley from his grasp. "Of course."

Loath as she was to dance with another strange man, Hayley went willingly into Jeremiah Gilbert's arms, though her toxic thoughts spoke otherwise. She briefly wondered if her pointed shoes would be useful against non-supernatural beings. But perhaps only the Salvatores were pigs, Hayley thought as she twirled into the Gilbert boy's arms and then through those of various different men. Most pairs of hands stayed resolutely on her back, only their eyes straying to what their hands could not touch.

After several more rounds of dancing, Hayley excused herself from the stamping throng, drawing several groans from men who had not yet had their chance. Slipping out of one of the many doors, she stepped out into the blistering cold, inhaling the fresh, crisp air. Her feet were cramping and she slid out of her shoes, setting them neatly against the base of one of the castle battlements. A nagging thought that had been weaving through her mind appeared at the forefront and she tried unsuccessfully to push it away. Of the dozens of men that had danced with her tonight, she had only wished to be in the arms of one. But he was entirely unaware of her, as jugs of fermented grapes seemed to be of more interest to him. She wanted to slap herself. Feeling like some sort of lovesick fool, it was idiotic and pathetic. Weak.

The creak of a door behind her sounded and she turned, groaning internally as Stefan Salvatore stepped out. His lips were spread in a dangerous smirk and she shuddered involuntarily.

"Hello, my lady."

"Lord Salvatore, I am not interested in what you have to say to me," she said, her eyes registering the intoxicated movements of a drunken man. He seemed oddly different, there was a wild gleam in his eyes and his bared teeth glinted in the pale moonlight.

"I've been waiting for this moment." He stepped forward, stalking towards her like a predator towards prey. She backed away, cursing silently when her shoulders touched the walls behind her.

And then he leapt forward.

* * *

Klaus was seething. Despite the copious amounts of drink that he had already consumed, his vision was still quite lucid, unbearably so. His hawk-like gaze repeatedly scanned the dancing crowd, easily spotting _her_, whirling from one man to the next. She was resplendent in her new outfit, her skin radiant and kohl-lined eyes sparkling with glee. He was surprised at the change of dress, as well as the amount of lush skin that was on display.

He fumed silently, watching the many pairs of greedy hands wrap ravenously around her waist and paw clumsily at her body, hoping for just a flash of interest or coquettish wink from her eyes. If only he was down there, he would show the moronic male populace exactly what—

Shaking his head, he grumbled lowly and downed the remaining wine from his goblet, drowning that thought with a liberal amount of liquid intoxication. He did not know what the girl was doing to him. From the moment his fangs entered her skin, he had been morbidly obsessive and destructive (more so than usual).

He had shredded his furniture (and several of his serving girls) after a particularly exhausting evening where Rebekah had insisted on a sleigh ride for the entire family to celebrate Hayley's 'miraculous' recovery. Hayley had been sandwiched tightly against him and he had nearly groaned aloud at the delicious torture she was unknowingly unleashing on him. By the time they had finished their extensive route, Hayley's eyes were drooping, her head bobbing slightly in his direction as she tried to resist sleep. Finally she succumbed, and her head dropped onto his shoulder, chocolate curls spilling over his snow-dusted coat. He angled his head ever so slightly in her direction, nose brushing the top of her tousled hair as he inhaled her heady scent softly, unaware of Rebekah and Elijah's lightning quick glances in their direction. He wanted to take her wholly in his arms and never allow her to leave his embrace. He wanted her gaze, her smile, her laugh, her kiss—

She had awakened something in him that he, along with the members of his family, believed to be dead or buried so deeply that it could never be revived. Every flutter of her thick lashes, the curl of her easy smiles, the merry laughter that fell effortlessly from her lips; he drank it all in, savoring each moment in his memory. She was bewitching and innocent; intriguing and spirited; and she consumed his every waking hour.

A deafening roar arose as the dance drew to a close and she was escorted up and seated next to him, smiling and laughing breathlessly. The perfume of her glistening skin wafted over to him in slow, rolling waves and he wished to bathe in the delicious scent.

He snatched a jug from a serving girl passing by and poured himself another glass of wine. As the feast commenced, countless numbers of salivating men waltzed up in the hopes of securing a dance, but Klaus was savagely delighted to see that Hayley exhibited more interest in her venison than in them. After devouring nearly half of an entire cow, she finally rose from her seat and accepted the hand of the smirking Salvatore. Watching Stefan settle his hand treacherously low on her back incurred such an odd rage in Klaus that he wanted to tear the man's limb right out of its socket. Growling quietly to himself, he masked his malicious feelings in a large swig of rum. And then another. And another.

A sharp, familiar gasp sounded in his over sensitized ears and his eyes snapped up, immediately pinpointing where she was. The Salvatore boy was practically manhandling her, his eager palm almost cupping her backside and his lips virtually suckling on her earlobe. A louder snarl tore through Klaus' lungs and the armrests of his chair splintered underneath the pressure of his clenched fists. He was about to rise from his seat, but then decided against it, knowing that if he made it to the dance floor, Stefan's heart would soon be pulsating wetly in his hand.

"Brother?" he called casually, trying desperately to ignore the broiling hate filling his lungs and choking him. "Your ward has gotten into a spot of trouble."

Elijah paused in his conversation with a brunette wench, eyes slowly drifting over to Hayley and Stefan. "I think she can handle herself," he replied, as he rose from his seat and sped past Klaus. "But most humans do not recover well on the receiving side of a slap from an angry werewolf."

Klaus smiled briefly, but it instantly dissolved as his brother took the coveted position of the night, though he wrapped Hayley in a considerably more appropriate embrace. He reached for the jug of wine and upended it over his goblet, glaring furiously when only a few drops splattered out. Leaning over, he seized Elijah's wine flagon and poured it down his throat, not ceasing until his vision swam murkily.

He had to leave. The stench of sweat and musky body odor permeated the entire room, mingling peculiarly with the heavy spices wafting from the platters of food still being passed around. Smoke floating from the roaring fires in the enormous hearths and burning torches muddled his already inebriated mind. And to increase his misery, he was fairly certain that Hayley was still in the midst of all the twirling chaos, surrounded on all sides by men clamoring for a chance to have their hands on her. Stomping sullenly away from his untouched dinner, he snagged Rebekah's wine glass on his way past the high table and out onto the castle battlements.

The wind screamed relentlessly, though it could not completely drown out the raucous laughter and drunken cheering of the celebration. He was nearing his tolerance point; heavy fuzz had settled over his brain and he tottered against the battlements, hot palms braced against freezing stone. He was delirious; he knew it, even a rough gasp that broke through the gust quite a distance away sounded incredibly like her. His gaze drifted sluggishly away from the edge of the wall and over to…he couldn't believe his eyes.

Hayley had been pinned against the neighboring wall, with Stefan Salvatore's hand clamped firmly around her wrists and a black handkerchief shoved between her teeth. He was mouthing at her neck, sucking noisily and mauling her half-exposed breasts. She was snarling and gasping, fighting him with all her might as his hips trapped her against the stone. Her green eyes widened in shock as Stefan's hand descended languidly towards her skirt, drawing up the lustrous fabric and exposing her ankles. His hand then reached for the front of his straining breeches, flicking open the first button. Hayley squeezed her eyes closed and screamed desperately, her fists wildly flinging themselves at…air. Panting, she opened her eyes and Klaus was there, fingers coiled in his signature grasp around Stefan's throat. Half of the young Salvatore's body was already dangling off the side of the battlements, his legs kicking wildly at nothing as he screeched futilely.

Klaus' gaze shifted from Stefan to her and he cocked his head, a silent question. Hayley nodded, her disheveled hair in a wild halo and a fierce gleam in her eye. His fingers loosened and Stefan slipped from his grasp. Several brief seconds of nothingness came, but then multiple satisfying cracks echoed across the grounds.

Hayley's savior was standing tall, eyes blazing with a deep, fiery hatred that she had never seen before as he peered out over the walls. He eventually turned his attention to her, bright blue orbs sweeping over her body, fixating on the bruises blooming on her wrists and throat. She was trembling fiercely and she clamped a hand over her lips, failing to contain the sob that was clawing up her windpipe. His gaze softened and he reached forward, delicately molding his hand around her cheek, brushing away the single drop that spilled onto her pale skin. More tears slid from her lashes like crystal raindrops and she reached blindly for him, seeking comfort in his embrace. His arms wrapped securely around her waist, drawing her into his body as her shaking hands slid up his chest and wound around his neck.

There was no sense of time as they stood there, locked together in a tight embrace. Hayley's face was burrowed in his neck, lips at his pulse point and breathing in his breathtaking scent. Klaus cupped the back of her neck, fingers stroking through her tousled tresses.

"Shall we return to the feast?" he breathed into her hair.

She shook her head immediately, tightening her hold around his neck. Music continued to pour from the celebration below and Hayley clasped one of Klaus' hands in hers and slid it around her waist.

"Dance with me."

Perhaps it was the enormous amounts of alcohol working through her system or due to the moonlight bouncing off of his sinfully beautiful face that gave her the courage to make such a ridiculously thoughtless request. But he complied without a word, slowly twirling her along the wall walk. Light gusts of wind tousled chestnut locks around her nearly bare shoulders and emerald eyes pierced into him, appearing as though they held the whole world's pain hidden within their jeweled depths. He wanted to rub that look out of her eyes, wanted to wring the blasted Salvatore's neck a hundred times, wanted to tear open his rib cage and squeeze his throbbing heart in his hand. His delusion and sudden infatuation with the girl had taken control of his entire being and he reveled at the chance of having her in his arms, but raged at the circumstance that had brought her there.

Ignoring his instincts that screamed at him to release her, he nestled his nose into her hair, nearly crowing in delight when she shifted, allowing him to burrow deeper. They swayed together, lost in each other's embrace as the moon climbed higher and higher into the sky.

"Are you all right, my little wolf?" he finally murmured, lifting his head to gaze at her.

She nodded slowly, jade eyes cryptic. "It's not the first time that's happened."

Before he could open his mouth in concerned response, multiple explosions sounded, rocking the castle. Screams could be heard, along with the frantic pounding of feet. Lilac smoke billowed out from every orifice in the castle, swirling up in tendrils that clutched at the night sky. Cloaked deep in the recesses of the forest below them, Katherine and her vampire army rose and began to advance.

* * *

**AN: Well, hello there folks! How nice of you to join me :) I will never get tired of saying this, but a big thank you to everyone that reviewed, subscribed, and favorited! I do read each and every review and I do take into consideration what you all have to say, so please comment away and let me know what you think! And as always, questions!**

**1. Will any other Mikaelsons be popping up?**

**Sorry, no other ones :( I'm not ruling it out, but at the moment I don't plan on incorporating them anytime soon. The only Original that is definitely dead is Mikael, so this story kinda follows the one in TVD where Klaus kills his father. Not quite the same circumstances surrounding it, but that will be explained later on. **

**2. Will Hayley be learning the Mikaelsons' backstory?**

**Yes! She will be discovering new things about them and they'll be doing the same.**

**3. Wouldn't Katherine know immediately if Marcel was helping Hayley?**

**Nope, Katherine is unaware that Marcel (kinda sorta) let Rebekah in on the plan. You can tell she doesn't know because she's already gathered her vamp army outside the castle even though none of them will be able to enter to find Hayley. **

**4. Is Marcel's loyalty questionable?**

**Absolutely, I liken his loyalties with Snape from Harry Potter. (sorry, nerd alert!) You can't tell throughout the books which side Snape is truly on, which is revealed at the very end. Same with Marcel. Obviously, I am no where near as talented as the amazing J.K. Rowling and Marcel isn't quite as complicated as Snape. But you will be able to see where he's coming from. **

**5. Was there wolfsbane smoke that Rebekah was smelling?**

**Nope, the jars are sealed, therefore they can't release any of the wolfsbane into the surroundings. Marcel was holding the jar, so Rebekah spotted it and asked him what the heck he was doing carrying around a weird wispy thing. (but in more eloquent terms..) **

**6. Will Hayley betray Elijah?**

**Whaaaaaaaat.. uh.. no, I'm pretty sure that isn't happening. There is a very small, basically almost zero chance of Hayley betraying Elijah to anybody. He is the one who's been providing her with every comfort in the world and she cares deeply for him. So, probably no betrayal on Hayley's part!**

**Alright, well that's it for this chapter everyone! Thank you all for your support and have a wonderful monday! Originals tomorrow! Something to look forward to! **

**xxLil**


	10. Chapter 10

Marcel ran the currycomb lightly through the palfrey's thick, midnight black mane. The horse nickered softly and nudged his arm almost affectionately, brown eyes gentle and warm. She was Marcel's favorite and by far, the swiftest animal the Mikaelsons possessed. He would need her incredible speed tonight, as he had to put as much distance between himself, Katherine, and the Mikaelsons as possible. The barn was warm and quiet, the livestock within slumbering away after a hard day's work. Although tranquil now, Marcel was well aware of the pandemonium that would soon ensue.

The Yuletide celebration had barely commenced within the castle walls, but even so, he felt no desire to join. There would only be fake smiles and half-hearted curtsies as the lords and ladies of the nobility peered down their noses at him. He was nothing to them. An armorer and fencing master were of no use to the spoiled likes of people who could not even lift a finger for themselves.

Running his hand tenderly across his mare's coat one last time, he plucked up his saddlebags from the floor and tossed them onto her back. Fishing a sugar cube out of his pocket, he procured it in front of her lips, smiling wistfully as she scooped it daintily from his palm.

Suddenly, an invisible force slammed into him and he felt his body being lifted up and pushed out of the stables. His boots dangled over the ground and his arms flailed, trying to catch a hold of anything to keep him rooted inside. He was tossed out of the horse stalls with a solid thump, landing quite clumsily on his backside in the dirt surrounding the buildings.

"Damn," he breathed, glaring up at the light flickering from Elijah's window. He had never believed the Mikaelsons to be capable of such trust with someone who was not of their kin. Handing the deed of their entire home to the werewolf was unprecedented, but then again, Hayley was no ordinary ward.

Cursing, he clambered to his feet, slapping the dirt from his knees and elbows. He chirruped to his mare inside the barns, who blatantly ignored him, nestled away as she was in her cozy stall. Marcel strode up to the barn entryway and tried again; harder, the clear whistle sounding quite loudly as she stared at him blankly and chewed on her alfalfa bale.

It was clearly a lost cause and he was running out of the precious little time that he still had. He inhaled deeply, his heightened senses absorbing the familiar scents and sounds of the place he had called home; the only place he had ever felt he belonged. And he remembered everything—how Elijah had taught him his letters, the first time Niklaus had placed a wooden sword in his hand, his first steps inside the magnificent castle that welcomed him with open arms. The memories began to intensify and he buckled under their onslaught.

"_Look at this one! He's small now, but he'll grow to be nearly the size of a bull. He could pull carriages if that's what you want! He's young, so you won't be getting any kind of back talk from him. We'll start the bidding at 150." _

_The little boy's eyes burned as unshed tears clouded his vision. Chains were draped around his ankles, linking to the iron collar locked tightly around his scrawny neck. The blistering cold wind whipped through his ragged clothes, ghosted over his tattered body, and he shivered, the manacles around his wrists clinking. The announcer was hollering something at the throng packed below them, and he scanned the crowd, looking for signs of kindness or compassion. There were none. Greedy eyes devoured him, tore him to pieces, and dreamt of having him as their own personal slave. _

_Shouts rang out, shrieking numbers at the announcer and his value continued to rise. They were well within the 500s now, and climbing. _

"_570! And sold!" the announcer screamed over the mass of people, pointing at a tall nobleman with eyes of coal and lips sharp as flint. "To the handsome gentleman in the back!" _

_He stalked forward to claim his prize, taking the leather whip from the announcer's hands and yanking harshly on the chains. The young boy stumbled forward, tumbling down the roughly hewn wooden steps. He collapsed in a heap at the foot of the stairs, his bruised body crumpled. The man growled and spit at him, cruel hands tugging harder. _

"_Get up! You lazy shit! 570 for you and this is what I get? A lame slave?!" he roared, spittle flying from his lips. _

_The boy's temper flared and he reared up, lunging forward, mouth open in a wordless snarl. Before the crowd could react, the chains had been wrapped firmly around the man's throat in a tight stranglehold. With a grisly twist of his wrists, the young boy snapped the man's neck with a sharp crack. _

_Screams of horror arose and suddenly, dozens of hands were around the boy, hauling him off the dead man's body. Shouts calling for his death and rough blows slammed into his already broken body. _

_A rough hand curled around his elbow and he was abruptly hauled out of the grasp of the stampeding crowd. His brown eyes opened to see blue ones gazing back at him, without a single ounce of disgust darkening them. The impeccably dressed man next to him and his savior tossed a hefty bag of gold to the sobbing widow of the gentleman. _

"_For your troubles," he called out over the throng. _

_The boy trembled as the blue-eyed man reached for his throat, eyes widening as the man snapped the collar with a twist of his fingers. He shed the chains, dropping them to the floor with a satisfying clang, finally standing tall after weeks of stooping. The man draped a jacket over his shoulder and took his arm, leading him past the hollering mass of people._

"_My name is Klaus," the blue-eyed one said. Motioning to the one next to him, "This is Elijah." _

"_Where are we going?" the boy said, lips trembling slightly. _

"_Home." _

Staring up at the castle, Marcel murmured his final goodbyes to the stonewalls that had housed him for the past decade. The place where he would last see the sparkling blue eyes and wicked smile of his Rebekah. Then, turning away from all the memories fogging up his mind, he darted into the woods, the branches of multiple trees rustling quietly in his wake.

* * *

Katherine gritted her teeth in frustration as she watched her vampires bombard the castle boundaries uselessly. The Mikaelsons had obviously gotten wind of her plans and had prepared adequately in response. Her minions were surrounding the castle, pawing at the walls and trying to pummel past the invisible force that hindered their entrance.

"_Enough_, idiots," she snarled at them. They stopped instantly, dropping to the ground around her, landing gracefully on the balls of their feet. "Since we can't go in, they'll come to us."

Pale lavender mist continued to billow out of the castle, contrasting brightly against the deep blue of the sky. Even from such a great distance away, Katherine could smell the heady scent of the herbs. Davina had done well.

The sound of pounding boots and clicking shoes could be heard gradually fading away. Rustling skirts and gasping screams echoed across the grounds as the groan of the oaken doors began to creak open. The murmur of conversation began to dip and soon the keep was quiet.

"Prepare yourselves," Katherine called. "Remember, I want the girl. She is our primary concern."

The doors finally swung open with an almighty crash and Katherine's vampires descended like flies onto a carcass.

* * *

"Everyone, please make your way out the rear entryways," Elijah called calmly, his voice swirling through the thick clouds of wolfsbane. It was not an unpleasant scent, but combined with the stench of fresh perspiration and smoked venison; even a country bumpkin would not have set foot within the hall. Let alone countless members of nobility who were accustomed to the pleasing scents of chamomile and cloves. As far as Elijah's eyes could see, the exploding glass had injured none, though several ladies had fainted in shock. Serving girls were fluttering around their limp bodies, waving smelling salts underneath their powdered noses to revive their mistresses.

The crowd began to slowly evacuate, some snagging goblets of wine along their slow trek out into the walled courtyard. Many had clearly succumbed to the graceless effects of copious amounts of alcohol, as the great majority stumbled outside rather than their usual elegant stroll. The Great Hall had been obliterated, countless platters of food had been upended onto the floor and several overturned candles were turning the long tables into kindling. Grey smoke intertwined with the opaque mist, seeking out every corner and saturating the entire room.

"Who did this?" Elijah murmured softly to Rebekah, who was standing alongside him. She turned to him, blue eyes swimming with traitorous tears, slender fingers curled into iron fists.

"Marcel," she replied, her voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions roiling inside of her. "When he told me about Hayley's dress, he was holding one of those damned jars."

Taking Rebekah's hand, Elijah followed the remaining trickle of people slowly filing outside. "But, why?" he muttered quietly, so that none around them could hear. "He has no motive. What could he possibly gain by aiding Katerina?"

"Immortality," Rebekah snarled bitterly. "I thought it was just my imagination…what else have I ever wanted but to be with him forever? But I felt his strength today. He's not human anymore."

Outside, the icy gusts of wind whipped up lustrous gowns and mussed perfectly coiffed hair. Elijah gripped Rebekah's hands in his, gazing solidly into her hardened eyes.

"You know what is on the other side of these walls," he said.

She nodded and returned his grip, squeezing softly. "Hayley is ours now. I know that I shall relish it."

"They're young, don't let them touch a hair on your golden head," Elijah reassured her.

"They won't."

He handed her a stake, plucked from his interior jacket pocket. "I know that blood is rather difficult to remove from underneath fingernails."

"You know that I am always willing to get my hands dirty," she replied, pushing it back at him and winking. Elijah nodded and turned towards the confused nobles, but she gripped his sleeve, tugging slightly. "What of Niklaus and Hayley?"

"I already spoke to Niklaus, he knows exactly what to do." Elijah smiled at her and kissed her hair, embracing her to him. Releasing her after a few moments, he nodded and melted away into the crowd. She could hear him quietly directing the crowd of confused noblemen and women towards a side corridor that led to the dungeons. Gradually the throng of drunken nobility slowly filtered away and the courtyard was once again empty.

Rebekah motioned to the guards positioned near the gigantic oak doors. Their heads were cocked in confusion, but nevertheless, they reached forward, yanking the creaking doors open slowly. All seemed quiet beyond the castle walls and Rebekah took a deep breath, one heeled shoe crossing over the threshold.

And there they all were. Her lips curled into a deadly smile as the swarm of young vampires leapt forward.

She was not the delicate blonde doll in a lovely green dress that everyone at court believed her to be. She was lethal and magnificent. The veins began to curl delicately around her dark eyes and she whirled into her favorite deadly dance. She gripped the chin of the first vampire that rushed her, decapitating him easily and bowling the next over with the dripping head held daintily in her ringed fingers. The point of her shoe was driven through the back of a fleeing vampire's cranium and she used his spine to spear through the sternum of another fool that had flung herself at the blonde Original.

A bubbling laugh tore from her blood-red lips, and several of the advancing vampires shrank back in confusion, mouths curled over their teeth. They were slow, comically so, and a dozen dribbling hearts had already been tossed over her shoulder before the owners of them had even registered what they were missing. She snagged the next baby vampire by the throat, snarling into his petrified face.

"Where is Katherine?" She rattled him, her fingernails slicing into the skin of his throat. He shook his head frantically, while beads of blood streaked down his throat.

"Y-you're not supposed to be a vampire."

Rebekah's eyes narrowed and she flung him against the side of the castle wall with a nauseating crunch, leaving behind a dark stain when his crushed body fell to the earth. "Wrong, I am most definitely supposed to be a vampire."

She chased after the last few, snapping necks and ripping out hearts, cornering the last vampire right on the edge of the forest. Rebekah's fangs glinted in the darkness and she grabbed the young one's throat, squeezing with such an enormous amount of pressure, that she was surprised his eyes did not pop.

"What is your name?" she demanded, lips parted in a snarl. He was young, even for a human, with curly black locks and terror-filled doe eyes. Had he not been one of Katherine's minions, he would have made a lovely little plaything.

"J-Joshua," he stammered back, his legs furiously scraping the ground, trying to find traction. Rebekah rolled her eyes in irritation at his failed struggles and tossed him fluidly against a tree. The sound of his skull colliding against the trunk echoed and Rebekah knelt next to him, her hand brushing his cheek almost tenderly.

"Well, Joshua, let this be a lesson for your mistress. I shall not be so lenient next time."

Her fingers twitched along his face and his neck twisted at an impossible angle with a piercing snap. Rising from the forest floor, she surveyed the luxurious gown that had been utterly destroyed. It had been torn in multiple places and the exquisite lace sleeves were hanging onto the lush fabric by a mere thread. The dress was now a deep, dripping scarlet, though several patches of green could still be seen. Heaving a long sigh, she waltzed back to the castle, only pausing to yank her shoes out of a vampire's head along the way.

* * *

"Please, remain calm," Elijah called through the gloom of the dungeons. The echoing buzz of dozens of people's chatter soon quieted at the sound of Elijah's comforting voice. "This was a frightening and unwise attack launched by the Lockwood forces. It is imperative that we fight all the harder to show that we are not cowed by their acts of idiocy."

Murmurs of assent rippled throughout the crowd and several 'hear hear!'s echoed against the slick stonewalls. Smiling, Elijah slipped away, after ensuring that everyone within the chambers was distracted. Clambering up to the castle walls, he peered between the turrets, surveying the expanse of the property. All was quiet, which meant that Rebekah had finished the task given to her.

A slight rustle in the snow-capped trees, one so small that it could not be seen by humans, captured his attention and he fixated on it, squinting. A flash of brown. Before he could register what was happening, his body had hurled itself over the side of the wall. He dropped to the ground, landing on his feet like a panther and darting into the forest after her.

"Katherine." He was quiet, but judging by the stiffness of her body language, she had heard. She slowly turned, twin pairs of liquid brown eyes piercing into each other. Her gaze gradually softened and a tiny crease appeared between her perfect brows. And then with a swish of her perfectly coiffed hair, she was gone.

Elijah took a deep shuddering breath and closed his eyes against the sudden endless flashbacks of Katherine choosing freedom over him.

Katherine flew through the forest, silent as a ghost, skidding to a stop when she spotted the black carriage. The coach driver nodded at her and she smiled, the first genuine grin of the night. She clambered inside as the carriage began to roll forward, slamming the door behind her. Settling herself comfortably against the velvet seat, she swatted the two bodies laying next to hers.

"Wake up," she snarled.

* * *

"Where are you taking me?" Hayley demanded, her throat still ragged after breathing in all the wolfsbane. She was being dragged through an underground passageway that Klaus had somehow managed to locate through all the deadly mist.

"Somewhere safe," he growled over his shoulder. The damp corridor was completely devoid of light and Hayley was forced to blindly stumble behind the hybrid as he tugged her along. They had been walking for what felt like ages and after hours of standing, curtsying, and dancing, Hayley's muscles were screaming at her to stop. She suspected that Klaus was quite frustrated at her slow pace, although she was unable to move any faster. Her beautiful shoes blessed her with amazing posture and an even more lovely backside, not speed. Fat drops of water collected on the corroded and mold-encrusted ceiling, splashing onto her exposed shoulders and collarbones. She shivered and brushed them away, momentarily releasing Klaus' hand.

"For goodness sake," he finally growled, plucking her up into his arms as though she weighed nothing. He sped through the remaining length of the passageway, dodging rusty water droplets. They slowed considerably when a thick iron door came into view, though Hayley assumed that that was purely for her benefit. Maybe he could have screeched to a halt, but she would have gone flying out of his arms and made a Hayley-sized dent in the door.

Setting her down, Klaus reached forward and grasped the bronze handle. It took immense amounts of force and some grunting on his part, but the door finally opened with an almighty screech. He extended his hand and she took it gingerly, her feet slowly ascending the frost-covered steps. They emerged into the middle of the forest, surrounded on all sides by endless acres of snow-encased evergreens. Delicate, early morning rays were peeking shyly over the tops of the trees, casting soft golden light over the clearing. The thundering roar of a waterfall nearby drowned out any noise and Hayley clambered through the snow towards the sound, lips parting in wonder as her eyes feasted.

She peered over the edge, watching sheets of water glide and smash into sprays against jagged rocks an incredible distance below. The delicate drizzles of water tickled her exposed skin and she laughed aloud, trying to catch some of the drops in her mouth. It was only until Klaus coughed behind her that she looked away from the dazzling view.

"Over there," he murmured, his hand pointing.

A white building winked at them, almost blending in seamlessly with the snow around them. Even from such a considerable distance away, Hayley could see its evident magnificence and the grandiose air it possessed.

She turned to Klaus, eyebrows raised. "You have too much gold than you know what to do with. Why on earth would you have a manor in the middle of nowhere?"

"It's not just a manor," he said, shedding his waistcoat and draping it over her naked shoulders. Linking her elbow with his, they began to stroll through the fresh snow, their feet crunching merrily together. Klaus was silent during their walk, but Hayley paid no mind, busying herself with the wonders around her.

The trees stood like dark sentinels around them, and looking back, she could no longer see the ancient door that they had climbed out of. Puffs of warm breath blew out of her mouth and she tugged Klaus' coat tighter around her body. The manor soon towered over them and Hayley was dumbfounded as she craned her head to peer up at it. They passed in between the white marble columns and Klaus reached one hand forward to pull open the door.

"Welcome to Mystic Falls."

* * *

**AN: Hello ya'll! As it is Thanksgiving in the US right now, I want to take the time to say that I am thankful for all of you readers! Every review, favorite, and follow means everything and I am so glad that you all are along with me for the ride. **

**As the majority of questions/concerns came from one reviewer, I'll answer it all together here: **

**1. Why couldn't Hayley fight off Stefan?**

**There is a reason why Hayley is unable to fight off Stefan. I am well aware that a werewolf is stronger than a human, but trust me, there is definitely a _reason_ why. There was originally a section I left in this chapter to explain why she couldn't fight off Stefan, but I thought that that would have been a tad obvious, so I cut it out. M'bad..**

**2. Why did Hayley turn to Klaus instead of Elijah for comfort?**

**Although Hayley does see Elijah as a wonderful man and friend to her, it is Klaus who has been 'saving' her ever since she entered the Mikaelson household. (preventing her from freezing to death, keeping her reputation clean, killing father kieran when she was incapacitated by wolfsbane, and finally, removing stefan salvatore) I'm sure if Elijah had been outside with her, she would have hugged him too. Also, if she had wanted to get to Elijah that badly, she would have to push through dozens of noblemen who were basically thinking what Stefan did. But, as stated before, she wished to be in Klaus' arms, so there she went. **

**3. Why does Hayley seem so powerless?**

**This will be explained in her backstory. I know I know, there are some that want to see Hayley kick ass. And she will! This I promise you. She definitely has the power to defend herself. **

**4. Why did Hayley choose to dance with Klaus, rather than head back inside towards safety?**

**Well, first, she is in the arms of an all-powerful hybrid. I'd say that that is pretty darn safe. And second, several folks requested jealous Klaus and then a Klayley dance, and what can I say? I'm a people-pleaser. So Klayley got their dance.**

**Alright, well that's it! Thank you all for your lovely support! Please read and review, let me know what you think! Wishing you all a wonderful holiday and heavy stomachs! xx**


	11. Chapter 11

"How could you let him take her?" Rebekah demanded shrilly, her voice ringing through the clammy dungeon cells. In the distance, weak groans accompanied her piercing words and the quiet jangling of chains echoed dimly throughout the vast chambers. She was trembling with rage, her wide blue eyes narrowed to snake-like slits. Grabbing the nearest object, she flung it at Elijah's head, who sidestepped it neatly. The ceramic exploded into pointed shards against the stone, showering his waistcoat.

"Really Rebekah," Elijah sighed, brushing the sharp fragments off his shoulders. "A chamber pot?"

"I could have used a full one," she retorted. She stomped away from him, arms tightly crossed and a sour look on her delicate features. "What were you thinking, Elijah? Do you not want Hayley to return to us? You are as aware as I am that mortals who go to Mystic Falls do not return."

"And why are you so keen about Hayley?" Elijah replied smoothly. "Niklaus and I have had countless young wards pass through this household, yet you held all of them in contempt. Why the sudden attachment to the wolf girl?"

Rebekah's expression softened somewhat. "She is different from the rest of them, 'Lijah. She's actually got something in her brain, rather than just bits of ribbons and fluff floating around in an empty cranium." Whirling suddenly, she prodded Elijah in the chest and snarled into his face. "And you took the only woman that I can stand in this bloody place and allowed her to become Nik's plaything."

Cupping Rebekah's hands in his, Elijah carefully lowered them, lest her anger provoke her to shove her fingers into his chest cavity. "Listen and look, my dear sister. Why else would I have done—" he gestured to their surroundings, "—all of this if I did not want Hayley to return? Why drain our entire staff of their blood and compel them, why scrub this entire castle free of wolfsbane, if not to keep Hayley safe?"

The furrow in Rebekah's brow loosened and she nodded slowly. Elijah released the pressure on her hands, smoothing his thumb gently over her skin. Pointing at the five men strung up by their wrists, she quirked an eyebrow at her brother. "So, why have you dragged me down here?"

"We can never be too careful with Katerina lurking about. She managed to entice Marcel, so I believe we need to do a bit of …spring cleaning where our staff is concerned." He procured a silver blade from his jacket pocket, and dangled it in front of Rebekah's eyes. "I thought you might like a nice treat."

Plucking the dagger from his hand, Rebekah stalked over to a man dangling from the ceiling, held up by manacled wrists. She dragged the blade lightly across the prisoner's chest, smiling at the man's obvious terror. Blood rushed out in a tantalizing stream and he shrieked hysterically, writhing against the iron bite of his shackles.

Elijah plucked the blade from her hand and pointed to the man's fluttering pulse point. "Try there. The carotid artery, it's a new-fangled term the healers are fabricating. If you nick that vessel, he'll only have to be here for a day until the vervain drains out of his system."

The blonde Original did as she was bid, and the cold steel bit through the supple skin once again, releasing a shower of red. Dabbing a handkerchief delicately across the crimson spray on her cheeks, Rebekah tossed the dagger back to her brother. "What now, then?"

"After he has been drained, we replenish his blood, compel his allegiance, and have him ingest vervain. And repeat with all the others. It's quite a simple system."

"I meant Hayley," Rebekah said, planting her hands on her hips. "I still cannot comprehend how you managed to persuade Nik into taking her there."

"Come," Elijah said, pulling open a concealed door. "Let us not talk of this amidst such unpleasantness."

"Decades in this place and I still have neither head nor tail of all these damned passageways," Rebekah grumbled quietly, following Elijah into the darkness. After Elijah had ushered her out of the black corridor, Rebekah tossed herself into one of the armchairs in her brother's study, tucking her feet underneath her skirts. "So, tell me."

Elijah seated himself behind his desk and rested his chin on steepled fingers. "For the majority of my immortal life, all that I have wanted was to see the redemption of our brother. You cannot fault me for chomping at the bit when I see even the smallest glimmer of hope that should allow us to obtain that goal. But I see it in Hayley; in the way Niklaus regards her. She is, as you said, different."

Rebekah shook her head, blonde ringlets brushing her cheeks. "So you sent her off, like a sacrificial lamb to slaughter? Hoping for a miracle that somehow, God himself will step down from the heavens and stop Nik's hand? He does not change, Elijah, how long until you learn that?" She threw herself from the chair and paced the length of the room, looking remarkably like a caged lioness. "So, all this time, everything you have done for her? Your kind words, your presents, your embraces, that was all just to incite Nik?"

Elijah inclined his head. "In the beginning, yes. But, I must admit, she is quite firmly cemented in our family now. We've grown quite fond of her, you and I. But as for Niklaus, we shall see."

"How long until she is allowed to return?"

"We have two hundred in our household and I can only drain five at a time without suspicion. Roughly forty days."

Rebekah braced her hands against the glass windows, peering at the icy forest stretched below them. She pursed her lips, wondering at what torture her idiot brother could possibly be inflicting upon her favorite companion.

"I can hardly wait."

* * *

"Get up," Katherine snapped at the figure lying in front of her hearth. Nearly an entire day had gone by, why hadn't the bastard woken up yet? She could see his eyes rolling in their sockets and his fingers twitched occasionally, but otherwise, nothing. Rolling her eyes, Katherine stomped over to her bedside table and grabbed a jug, pouring its scarlet contents into a goblet. "Wake up," she sing-songed, waving the blood under his nose.

Nothing.

She growled lowly, and then dipped her fingers into the warm blood, smearing some onto his lips. He immediately latched on, his teeth clamping onto her stained fingers, sucking noisily. Pulling back when his fangs pierced a knuckle, she flicked him on the forehead.

"Enough, Salvatore," she scowled, rising from her crouched position and towering over him.

Stefan peered up at her, panting slightly. Rising from his splayed position, he downed the goblet Katherine offered. He raised a hand and wiped excess blood from his chin, bringing the drops to his mouth.

She glared at him. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He shrugged, tossing himself onto Katherine's bed with a solid thump. "I wanted a little fun." Sinking deeper into her cushions, he pointed an accusatory finger at her. "You never let me have any fun. There's always a plan. Talk to Rebekah. Make her show you the layout of the castle. Get close to the wolf girl. Kidnap said wolf girl."

"Of course there's a plan," she retorted, settling herself primly at the foot of her bed. "And you are useful. Why else would I turn you and keep you around?"

He leaned forward, grinning wickedly. "Is it not because of my boyish charms?"

Katherine easily evaded his lips, pushing him away until he flopped back against her pillows. A small smirk graced her crimson lips. "Tell me what happened. How the hell did you even manage to get into the castle anyways?"

"Easy," Stefan grinned. "I took off my waistcoat and climbed up onto the parapets and waited until Haylia passed by. She asked what I was doing out there and I lied and told her that I had thought Rebekah's chambers were close by. So, of course, she unwittingly invited me in out of the cold so that I could wait for Rebekah's arrival."

Katherine cocked an eyebrow. "Don't count me as impressed. But why did you assault the girl?"

"Like I said before," Stefan said, reaching forward and dragging Katherine to him. She came willingly, allowing him to pepper kisses down her throat and along her delicate collarbones. "I thought that I could have a little fun, I just didn't think that Klaus would come along and toss me off the wall."

She frowned, though the delicate pressure of his lips was starting to take effect. "What more use do I have of you if you cannot resist your urges?"

"The only being that I cannot resist is you." His lips stroked her cheek and down her jawline. She shuddered, her eyes fluttering to a close as a breathy moan escaped her lips. He smiled into her skin, hands dancing wildly over her. "I am loyal to _you_, not to my father, not to Klaus."

"No more talk of Klaus," she breathed raggedly, allowing him to sweep his hands over her body and suckle on the soft skin of her neck. He obeyed, hands fumbling over the strings of her corset and swiftly tugging her court gown over her head with the help of vampire speed.

"Katherine," he mumbled into her throat, his teeth nibbling over her porcelain skin. His tongue trailed a line of smoldering flames, burning down her throat and shoulders. "Katherine, Katherine, Katherine, _Katherine_."

Her name echoed in Katherine's ears and she arched, pulling Stefan's lips up to hers. _Katherine_. His shirt was being pulled over his head as he fell between her parted thighs. _Katherine_. She was not in her own bed anymore. She was with _him_. Warm, brown eyes that adored her. Lips that formed over her name like a loving caress. _Katherine_. His desperate, broken cry that rang in her ears as she ran from him.

She wrenched her lips from Stefan's and whirled away, bracing herself against the window.

"_No_," she breathed. Turning away from him, she rested her forehead against the freezing glass, trying to cool her overheated skin.

"Katherine?" Stefan asked, panting slightly. He collected his shirt from where it had been hastily thrown and approached her, one hand stroking her cheek. She turned away, eyes downcast, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. "Katherine?"

"_Stop!"_ she slapped at his hand, jerking away from his touch. "Just stop. Stop saying that."

Stefan tugged his shirt over his head and retrieved his waistcoat. "Are you all right?"

Katherine gave him a withering look and shoved past him, tossing her dress over her chemise. "Never mind me. I need to show you something."

She led Stefan down into the Lockwood dungeons and pushed open the door to the last cell. He waved a torch in front of him and squinted into the inky darkness. A figure had been tied to a long wooden board and the evidence of torture was clear on his body. Long, jagged, slashes marred his dark skin and blood trickled from his broken lips and shattered teeth.

"He looks familiar," Stefan murmured to Katherine softly.

"His name is Marcel," she replied. "The other vampire that I had stationed in the Mikaelson household. However, I soon found that he double-crossed me and then had the audacity to try and escape." Smiling, she pulled a small battle-axe from the plethora of weapons strapped to the wall and handed it to Stefan. "You wanted to prove your loyalty, now here is your chance. I want every morsel of information about the Mikaelsons ripped out of him. Every moment of silence from his mouth, take a toe. When you run out of those, move on to fingers."

Grinning, she reached forward and stroked Marcel's purpling cheek softly. "You chose poorly dear. Will your great love Rebekah save you now?"

His eyes fluttered open and he glared at her with such crushing hatred that Katherine almost withdrew her hand. Instead, she slapped him with all her might, pleasure budding in her dark heart as the stream of blood trickling out of his mouth intensified.

"Best of luck," she said to Stefan, patting him on the shoulder as she sauntered out. The iron door slammed shut behind her and she began to ascend the stone staircase back to her room. She paused on the fifth step and waited, listening in anticipation. A revolting crack sounded and a strangled, tortured cry pierced through the quiet. The look of triumph bloomed on Katherine's face and she climbed up the remaining steps, smiling in satisfaction.

* * *

Hayley paced through the room, her black skirts swishing against the wooden floor. A month, Klaus had said. She would be trapped in this luxurious prison for an _entire_ month. With not a single soul around except for the hybrid himself, who, at the moment, did not seem to prefer her company. The moment they passed over the threshold, he had seemed distant, leaning slightly away when she unconsciously linked her arms with his.

She flushed and scowled at the memory, blood coloring her pale cheeks. Elijah had been her constant male companion, not him, and she had grown accustomed to his easy embraces and chaste kisses. Klaus, clearly, did not share his brother's sentiment for physical contact, though their previous night deemed the exact opposite.

After he had played the courteous role of host and shown her to her rooms, Klaus had immediately disappeared, though Hayley heard the distinct sound of a bolt sliding across a door. She snorted. It was foolish for him to think that she would ever want to be in his presence when he was consumed with such a sour mood.

The rising sun peeked through her windows, tossing pale gold rays onto her exposed shoulders. She smiled briefly, before turning to the daunting task of unlacing herself from her court dress. The whalebones had been slicing into her ribs for hours now and she was desperate to rid herself of the wretched garment. Tugging open the armoire, Hayley saw that it was stuffed to the brim with various robes and day gowns hung in neat rows. She grabbed the loosest robe and flung it onto the navy coverlet of her bed.

Snarling under her breath, she tugged at the laces of her corset, her fingers blindly yanking the cords loose. She finally wrestled the giant gown over her head, a guilty weight settling in her stomach as she observed the ragged, decimated laces.

"Rebekah is going to murder you."

She sighed, crossing her arms over her lacy slip. "You're making quite a habit out of that."

Klaus cocked an eyebrow and made no response, instead snagging the black and gold robe lying on her bed. Tossing it around her shoulders, he fastened the clasp in place, ignoring the stunned look in her eyes. "Come," he said, gesturing out the door.

She eyed him suspiciously, before slowly following him down the stairs into the massive dining room. The enormous table was set for two and candles burned along its length, glittering off the crystal glassware. Hayley stopped and retreated several steps, her eyes narrowing distrustfully at the scene before her.

Klaus zipped in front of her, grasping her arm as she turned to leave. "We have a deal and you have yet to uphold your end of the bargain."

"What deal?" Hayley retorted, trying to yank herself lose. "Between being hunted by a vindictive vampire bitch, your sister hounding me about that ridiculous ball, and almost being violated, I haven't had time to think about whatever blasted agreement you beguiled me into."

"It was quite simple, on your part," Klaus replied, dragging Hayley to a chair and pushing her into it. She glared at him as he stalked over to the other end, seating himself fluidly. "You tell me everything I need to know about Katherine and I find a means to heal you. I allowed my witches to mend those sorry marks, but you have yet to divulge an iota of valuable information."

"So why bother with this?" She gestured at the table, her fingers waving over the expensive finery.

"Words are more easily given up when bellies are full and goblets are emptied. And I am well aware that Rebekah has been starving you. So eat and drink to your heart's content, little wolf, I am willing to wait."

She couldn't resist, the mouth-watering smells drifting lazily into her nose was causing her mouth to overflow with saliva. He could definitely hear the muted roar of her stomach as her gaze drifted over the feast he had laid out.

"Very well," she ground out. "But I won't enjoy it."

"I highly doubt that," Klaus said, a smirk on his lips.

* * *

**AN: Hello everyone, thank you so much for joining me! Thank you all so much for your comments last chapter, as well as all the faves/follows! You guys are amazing! Quick clarification: The Mystic Falls of this story is not the Mystic Falls of the show. Klaus/Hayley are not in Virginia. They are still in England, in a very remote part of the forest surrounding the Mikaelson property. A couple of people got really excited by the Mystic Falls reference, but I am (as of now) not going to be introducing any more VD characters (ie Damon, Caroline, Bonnie) At least, they're not going to be playing a huge role. Ok then, questions of course:**

**1. Is Hayley already pregnant?**

**Nooooooooooooo. hahahaha, omgoodness, not yet. Soon enough, though..you're getting ahead of me ;)**

**2. Since Klaus and Hayley are in Mystic Falls, are the other Mikaelsons going to join them? Or do they get a little alone time to discuss Hayley's past?**

**Unfortunately, I don't think I'm going to include Kol/Finn/Esther as of now. (I do have the liberty to change my mind though..) But Klaus and Hayley will definitely be discussing her past. Next chapter! I promise! Are you excited? :)**

**3. Who is the main couple?**

**As stated before in another one of my author's notes (i forget which one .. brownie points if you can remember though..), but I will not explicitly state who the main couple is. I understand that it is frustrating to some who wish to have a straight answer, but I firmly believe in the fact that the written word is up to interpretation. **

**So the scene that I meant to include in chapter 8 ( i think) is the scene where Hayley invites Stefan in. Initially, I wanted it to be a bit of a shocker that Stefan is a vampire and I felt that including that scene would have shown to the reader what he was. But, then again, it confused several people on why Stefan was so strong and I think the anticipation of knowing that Stefan is a vampire who can potentially (pardon my french) fuck shit up, would have been interesting. So, what do you think? Please let me know! Otherwise, apologies for the long-ish A/N, please read and review, and have a wonderful rest of the week. :)**

**Good luck to all those who are taking winter final exams! xx**


	12. Chapter 12

She was inclined to agree with the smug-faced bastard. Every morsel that Hayley lifted to her lips was gloriously delicious and quieted the rumblings of her stomach. She had torn through plates upon plates and two empty wine jugs sat defeated next to her glass. It was an entirely different experience eating without a corset squeezing her to death and she relished it, watching the loose, shimmering satin of the robe that covered her flat stomach plump just the tiniest bit.

Except for the soft scrape of silver against fine china, all was quiet in the magnificent dining room. Klaus had not spoken a single word the moment she had picked up her fork and he was silent still, eyes boring into her over his wine glass. After several more uncomfortable bites, Hayley downed the remainder of her spiced wine and cocked an eyebrow at him. She dropped her fork onto her plate, sighing as she did so.

"Enough with the staring, Klaus. I know that your questions are burning on the tip of your tongue. I do possess the ability to eat and talk at the same time."

He took another hearty gulp from his goblet, then studied her carefully, blue eyes contemplative. "Most women would consider that poor etiquette."

"I am not most women," Hayley snapped, the immeasurable amounts of mead and wine shortening her temper. "And I don't give a damn about your blasted etiquette. But, of course, it is _you_ that needs the answers that _I_ hold."

"Very well, then." He poured another generous helping of rum into his goblet. "Where is Katerina?"

"In the Lockwood stronghold. Is it not obvious?" Hayley replied, her response somewhat garbled as she swallowed a bite of decadent rum cake. She reclined back in her chair, propping her elbows onto her knees.

"And what protections does the Lockwood stronghold have?"

"Against vampires? Everything. Even though they are in control of a vampire horde, the entire building is doused with vervain and only Katherine and whoever she chooses are allowed within. They have stake-loaded crossbows stationed at every parapet and thousands of guards."

"Well, then it's quite simple, is it not? With some brute force, I can lay siege around their walls and simply batter the damned thing down."

Hayley's lips quirked a fraction. "I think your plan is in need of improved preparation. You cannot starve them out; there are endless tunnels and caverns located underneath their walls. Several of them are enchanted and the Lockwoods have magic on their side; they could hide for years."

"What?" Klaus said, a furrow appearing between his brows. "They have witches?"

Hayley hesitated, then lifted the goblet to her lips instead of an answer. The large gulp of liquid courage warmed the icy chill that had washed into her blood and she licked her lips slowly. "The Lockwoods always did. But…I believe they have acquired a new witch, though this is only speculation. I have suspected such ever since Katherine formed an alliance with the Lockwoods. How else is she able to keep her army protected from the sun? Or manage to fill our home with wolfsbane?"

"And how do you know about the existence of such witches?"

Hayley swallowed and looked away, green eyes darkening at the memories flooding her mind and bombarding the backs of her eyelids. She took another large swig from her goblet, closing her eyes against the sharp burn as the alcohol seared down her throat. The room was starting to spin and her pulse was pounding a hollow into her throbbing skull. "When I lived with the Lockwoods, I was examined by a witch once every fortnight."

Klaus' head cocked in curiosity, while his wine glass dangled dangerously from his fingers. "For what?"

Hayley leveled him with a hard stare and shook her head, wild brunette curls brushing her flushed cheeks. "No, you cannot pry that from me. The deal was that I give you information about Katherine, not myself."

"True, but as of now, you have given me nothing of value." Leaning forward, he studied her, blue eyes burning into her own. "You are withholding something from me and I demand an answer."

There was far too much wine in her body. It was a similar experience to the one she had at the ball—the room was starting to spin and she closed her eyes against the whirling furniture, willing her brain to think of something—anything, except what Elijah had told her in confidence.

"She's trying to create hybrids," she finally blurted, sighing quietly in relief. That simple sentence was the truth, though thankfully not the one currently searing a hole through her brain.

Klaus' stare hardened, his eyes darkening into hard sapphires. "_What_?" he growled lowly.

"Katherine knew that you didn't have the ability to make more because the doppelganger you used had been killed in the sacrifice. There's an overabundance of male werewolves in the Lockwood household, so she made use of them with the witches that were loyal to the Lockwoods."

Klaus snarled, brandishing a fork at her. "Any success?"

Hayley tipped the remainder of the jug into her goblet, eyes fixated on the silverware in case his temper decided that it would be better to drive the fork through her forehead than having it hanging from his fingertips. "Obviously not. The Lockwood witches were never capable of such dark magic and the results were abysmal. They died fairly quickly—bleeding from the nostrils and eyes was a fairly common occurrence. But with a new witch by her side, who knows what Katherine would be capable of?"

He stood suddenly, the magnificent oak chair skidding out from behind him. Stalking over to Hayley, he laid a hand on her shoulder, calloused thumb sweeping over her collarbone and dark gaze boring into her own. "Consider the debt paid in full."

A light squeeze and he was gone, a door somewhere in the house slamming behind him. Hayley inhaled an unsteady breath and tipped her head back, draining the remainder of the alcohol down her throat. She rested her head on her knees, knowing that she should be concerned with what Klaus could possibly do with the information that she had supplied. But with the copious amounts of alcohol swimming through her blood, she could not quite bring herself to care.

* * *

Another desperate cry tore itself from Marcel's mouth and Stefan stepped back, smirking widely. He tossed the bloodied axe to the ground, kicking aside the digit that had been detached by his hand. The evidence of torture had been wrought into the battered vampire's figure, carved open his heaving chest and resplendent in several bloody stumps on his feet. Moving towards his wall of torture, Stefan plucked a long, narrow knife from the wall, twirling it experimentally in one hand.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, running its blade delicately down Marcel's lacerated chest.

"A misericorde," Marcel mumbled, split lips fumbling over the words.

"And what does it do?"

"The coup de grâce. It delivers the death stroke."

Stefan shook his head, sadistic grin widening. "Don't think that you should be so lucky. We are immortal, are we not? Let's have some fun."

He rammed the blade under the dangling vampire's exposed arms, twisting the handle slightly as Marcel writhed in pain, arms desperately yanking against his restraints to no avail. Stefan pulled back and the dagger released Marcel's flesh, sliding gruesomely out of his body. "I think that was your heart, was it not?"

"_Why_?" Marcel suddenly roared, swinging forward and rattling the shackles. "I have given you _everything_. I have nothing left that Katherine could possibly want."

"Oh, of course not. Katherine has been quite busy as of late with her hybrid creations, and I needed some amusement. So here we are."

Several piercing screams rang through the chambers nearby, as though in response to Stefan's words. Harsh, garbled words accompanied the sound of violent thrashing of flesh against stone.

"Won't your father come looking for his precious son?" Marcel snarled, eyes darting towards the source of the tortured cries. A tiny ripple of movement caught his attention and he squinted into the inky darkness. Cloaked in shadows, a small figure stood at the doorway to the cell, a hood shrouding any discernible features from view. One small hand rose, and an index finger graced pale pink lips, wordlessly pleading for his silence. Though he tried to fight against it, the bloom of hope's blossoming tendrils took hold. The monotonous thuds of other imprisoned heartbeats pounded in Marcel's ears and he concentrated, finally distinguishing the insignificant flutter emanating from the petite creature at the door.

"You needn't worry about my father. If all goes according to plan, he'll be dead within a fortnight. And then I will be the ruler of all England."

"The Lockwoods will not concede to having a vampire as their king."

Stefan shrugged. "Katherine always has a plan. Her little witch slave, Davina will see everything to fruition."

Marcel's dark eyes narrowed and he spat, as more of his blood trickled out of his mouth. "She has a witch?"

"Of course she does," Stefan replied nonchalantly, wiping down the misericorde's bloody blade. "Katherine despises the idiot child, but she's immensely powerful and willing enough."

The figure suddenly darted away into the gloom, cloak swirling silently around its retreating body, taking Marcel's optimism with every fading step. He closed his eyes as Stefan's mace cracked against his sternum, sealing his fate within the chamber's bloodstained walls.

* * *

The dark colors washed themselves over the canvas, melding together in inexplicably rich tones. His hands worked feverishly, the many hues blossoming from under the silken stroke of his paintbrush, whirling into a dark dance that he found somewhat familiar. It was strange; the black swirls likening themselves to dark, unruly curls, the slight flashes of green like emeralds or wolf eyes.

Klaus stopped. The paintbrush jerked to a standstill and he laid it gently at the base of the easel, retreating slowly from his work. Blue eyes wandered over his newest creation, absorbing every detail.

It was different, he supposed. Not a tranquil landscape or a pretty maiden on a horse. A replica of her that he had somehow put to canvas. Dark and twisted, lovely but frightening. And Klaus Mikaelson did not take well to being frightened, especially not from himself.

Lunging forward, he grabbed the canvas and marched to the roaring fireplace. His eyes flickered over the painting and he held it over the greedy flames, ready to release it to their orange maws.

"Please, don't."

_She_ stood there, hand resting delicately on the doorknob, wide eyes fixated on the rapidly heating painting. He slowly lowered his hand and she stepped forward, taking the warm canvas from him.

"I like this one," she said quietly, surveying the other paintings displayed throughout the room. She set it down gently on the table littered with thousands of sketches and nubs of charcoal. Green eyes snapped up to his, alcohol-induced mischief in them. "It doesn't make me want to vomit."

Circling around the table, she perched delicately on the edge of the chaise lounge near the fireplace, golden wine glass dangling from slender fingers. "Why did you paint it?"

He smiled—almost warmly, if that was possible. "Painting is a metaphor for control. Every choice is mine—the canvas, the color. As a child I had neither a sense of the world, nor my place in it. But art taught me that one's vision can be achieved by sheer force of will."

Hayley rolled her eyes. "Control. What an interesting concept. I've never had much experience with that in my life."

He cocked an eyebrow, settling himself at the opposite end of the long couch. "Do explain."

Her green eyes narrowed but she shifted to face him, head cocked. "And why should I? A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets."

"Secrets lie within you not because you lack eager lips…" his eyes dropped down to her moistened ones, "…but because you do not have a willing ear ready to listen." Shrugging, he leaned back against the plush cushions, arms open. "But, here I am. Willing and waiting."

Hayley's resistance was wavering, the ridiculous amounts of wine muddling her normally sharp senses. Piercingly beautiful blue eyes swallowed her, bored into her soul and she wanted to surrender, to crumble to whatever he asked of her. He was right, of course, the smug bastard. Her past had ripped apart her soul and now it clawed against her windpipe, threatening to break free. It would be easy. The words were already simmering at the surface and she need only part her lips before everything would be spilled out into Klaus' ears.

"It is a long tale, I'm afraid."

Klaus cocked an eyebrow. "We have two fortnights, surely that is enough?"

She looked vulnerable, hands fisting themselves in the fabric of her robe, knotting and unraveling the silk. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Hayley finally relented and slowly began her account.

"The Marshalls were never a prominent family, my grandfather had long fallen out of favor with the Lockwoods after some sort of ridiculous spat. Father was aware of that but he also knew that the Lockwoods were in desperate need of female wolves to continue the werewolf bloodline. Only males had been birthed for nearly a decade, and they were desperate.

However, my father was sterile…" Hayley paused as Klaus wrinkled his brow, slightly confused. "Riding accident," she replied quickly, before continuing. "He could not give my mother what she so desired, a place in court. So, one fateful evening, he discovered a squalling baby recently birthed by one of the young chambermaids sent from France, and she bore the wolf mark on her shoulder. So, he took that baby and raised her as his own; Mother even wore a cushion under her gown as though to show everyone that she was great with a phantom child."

"And that child was you."

"Yes," Hayley murmured, eyes downcast into her lap. "I am not of noble blood. Only a commoner."

"And what happened next?"

She threw him an odd look, one perfect eyebrow arched, before turning away again. "You do not show concern at my background. Does it not unease you? Sharing a seat with someone from the peasantry?"

Leaning forward, he grasped her chin, tugging it up so that her glistening green met his deep blue. "I am not my sister and I care not for such things. Blood is blood."

His palm fell from her flushed skin and she shivered, uncomfortable with the sudden lack of warmth. "My father took me to court as a babe and proudly exhibited the mark on my shoulder. And suddenly, the Marshalls were welcomed with open arms. My mother was never more elated. One flaw that my father had not foreseen in his scheming was the initiating of the werewolf curse. I had to trigger the curse before I flowered into a woman in order to produce new pups for the Lockwoods. I was a quiet child, and I did not enjoy conflict of any sort. When I reached my fifth birthday, my father began the beatings."

Klaus' hands twitched and Hayley could have sworn that there was a muscle ticking at the corner of his jaw. His eyes were liquid fire, the bottomless blue burning brighter than she had ever seen before.

She paused again and he jerked his head tightly, gesturing for her to continue.

"My father needed me to harness the rage that boiled beneath the surface of every wolf—I was no use to the Lockwoods if I was not wolf. Every chance he could, he bellowed the words that would wound me most, whipped me until my body was striped black and blue. Somehow, I believe that hurting me wounded him as well. He was never quite the same, his moods and health deteriorated beyond repair, but the violence continued. My mother turned a blind eye to it all; she cared not for anyone but herself.

I never retaliated to my father's abuse until my tenth birthday. He had his horse brought around and he ordered me fetched. I fought—the hardest I had ever fought up to that time, and I screamed for the entire household to hear. But, it was useless in the wake of my father's will. We rode to his usual hunting grounds, deeply buried within the forest surrounding my home, and he began the beatings again, only this time he was using the butt of his sword."

A stray tear flew down her cheek, and Klaus' eyes focused on the glistening diamond rolling down her skin. He made no move to touch her again, hands tightly locked in fists.

Her fingers reached up, hastily brushing away the evidence. The moisture streaked her skin and the firelight danced off her moistened, luminescent skin. "I tried to resist the fire within me, I tried to control it, but it was all too much. After all, how could I run from something that was already within me? The curse makes you strong, even when you have not become full wolf. And as my father loosened his grasp on his sword, I tore it from his hand and in my rage, drove it through his belly."

Hayley stopped, a sob interrupting her tale and tearing itself through her clamped lips. Her vision was swimming, tears overwhelming all. A handkerchief was pushed into her hands and she dabbed delicately at her wet lashes. "And so I triggered my curse. The last thing that my father told me was that he loved me and that he hoped that my mother was happy now. I hated her for what she did to him. She drove him to the brink of insanity and he never found his way back.

The next day, my first moon's blood came and I was brought to Lady Marianna Lockwood. She instructed me on everything that I needed to know now that I was being raised in her household. The one thing that she neglected to inform me about was the mating rituals."

"What?" Klaus snarled, finally breaking his rigid silence. His back was ramrod-straight, hands clenched around the dark frame of the chaise lounge, clenched fingers threatening to tear through the wood.

Though she had been teary-eyed and sniffling minutes ago, Hayley was now emotionless, her gaze steely and cold. "If I had thought the beatings were bad, the raping was worse," she said, with a humorless bark of laughter. "They needed heirs to the Lockwood family, so once every fortnight, I, along with several other girls, were taken into the dungeons and the Lockwood men had their fill. They were not gentle, they rutted like dogs. And after every one of those disgusting evening, I was sent to a witch to be examined for pups. Thankfully, none ever took."

"And your agreement with Commander George?"

"I was angry," Hayley replied flippantly, turning to gaze at the hearth. "I wanted to exact my revenge upon the people who raped me and turned my father into a monster. And all of that has lead me here."

His face was blank, unseen tumultuous emotions churning inside as he gazed at her face. Dark eyes washed over her and he rose slowly from his seat, hands clasped behind his back. "I believe that it is time for me to take my leave. Perhaps, you should as well. You have had quite a strenuous time, some rest would do you well."

With a turn of his heel, he marched out of the door, the latch clicking shut behind him. Soft green eyes remained on the door, slightly hurt and anxious. Hayley's teeth worried her lips as she plucked up the dark painting lying on the table. Running one finger delicately over the rough ridges of the dried paint, she wondered why she could not keep her damn lips sealed.

* * *

He paced in the snow, fists clenched by his sides, feet crunching through the icy crystals. He should not care, he could not care. It was not something that he permitted himself. A terrifying fury rattled him and he threw a fist into a nearby evergreen. It did nothing to relieve his anger, but rather, increased it by showering him with fistfuls of the powdery fluff coating its naked branches.

Endless barrages of visions of Hayley paraded themselves across the back of his eyelids. A thin, trembling child. Wide, terrified green eyes; glossy, dark curls; cowering in fear as her father approached. Pale, delicate skin broken and marred with pain and immeasurable amounts of suffering. Crouched over her father's body as he breathed his last breath, reminding his daughter of his love and devotion. Tortured in the Lockwood dungeons by their numerous men. That image nearly made him throw his head back and howl with rage. She was pinned down, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the sickening acts happening below.

His hatred for the Lockwoods burned ever brighter, the flames scorching his body. A thought wormed itself into his head and he grinned sadistically into the darkness. Turning, he raced into the forest.

Tonight, he would bathe in wolf's blood.

* * *

**AN: HELLOOOOOOOOOOO! I am so sorry.. it's been a while since I've updated and I apologize :( School and break have been wreaking havoc on my life so I've had basically no time to write. Hopefully this chapter is up to par, it was written rather hastily.. Anyways, I want to thank everyone for all their love and support that they've shown this fic! Thank you to itslucilebitch on tumblr, who posted a really amazing, totally wonderful, made my entire freaking day, graphic depicting Klaus and Hayley. IT WAS SO BEAUTIFULLLLLLL! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Now, onto your lovely questions!**

**1. When are you updating?**

**I don't really have a schedule planned and I write my chapters one at a time, so I can't give you a definite date. But, hopefully sometime next week? I'm going to be heading up to the mountains for four days, so I won't be able to write for several days. :(**

**2. Is this dinner going to be the infamous 4x16 scene?**

**Well, you've read the chapter, so you know that the answer is unfortunately, no. I think having Klaus and Hayley sleep together right now is a smidge early.. we'll see though.. don't give up hope!**

**3. Are you going to hurt Marcel?**

**Sorry, dear. But yes, he's going to go through some hurt. You don't betray the Mikaelsons and Hayley without getting some ass-whooping. **

**Thank you all for your support! Please read and review! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! xx**


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